


In the Dark of the Night

by Wizards_Pupil



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Adventures, Are there any other kind of secrets?, Arkenstone - Freeform, Curses, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarves, Erebor, Evil Saruman, Friendship, Hidden Secrets, Hobbit Culture, Hobbits, Khuzdul, M/M, Magic, Magic Outlawed in Erebor, Mommy Issues, Paranoia, Pining, Politics, Pregnant Dís, Romance, Royalty, Slash, Smut, Though It's Not Really Paranoia If They're Actually Out To Get You, Top Thorin, True Love, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:15:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 54,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1615709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizards_Pupil/pseuds/Wizards_Pupil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Thorin, it started at five with a curse from a wizard.<br/> <br/><i>“I curse your house for now until I have what I seek! Magic has robbed me of that which should be mine, and it shall be a blight on your house from now on. By magic, all your family will burn when the first bears that which was entrusted. When the heart meets with the heart of the line, desolation will come!"</i></p><p>Years later Thorin would remember that night and his mother’s scream. He would think of the trembling of his baby brother. He would remember huddling with the sons of Fundin in a niche till the guards rescued them.</p><p>He would remember two blanket covered bodies. He would not understand that one was his mother until he was older.</p><p>The wizard had escaped, but Thraín reacted to the curse instantly.</p><p>The Arkenstone that the wizard sought was locked away.  Magic was banished from inside Erebor. They closed their doors to outsiders, using Dale to trade instead of their own marketplace. Allies were not let inside the kingdom unless they agreed to be stripped of all magic. Wizards were sent away, magical weapons melted, and magical jewelry destroyed. </p><p>No one expected that a young hobbit would be the one to change it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day it started was one that none of the three children would ever fully forget.

“Where is she?”

At the time, Thorin had been too young to understand what was happening. The tension in the air had not been noticed by his young self.

“Frerís!”

He was five summers old, and far more interested in the toy eagle with topaz eyes than his mother bustling about the room with Frerin strapped to her chest and Dís snuggled in her other arm. That was a normal sight to the young prince.

“Grab the children!”

It wasn’t until Thraín burst into the room with frightened eyes and hair that had fallen from the complicated jewels and braids he wore that Thorin became interested. His cape was hanging off one shoulder and khuzdul was pouring from his mouth in a constant stream. Two guards were at his side in full attire, their axes and swords drawn.

Looking back, it was fairly obvious that the dwarf had been in a bit of a panic. Thorin had known something wasn’t quite right, but, being only five years old at the time, he had not thought it was something to worry about. He’d been far more excited about the fact that his father was in the room. He’d dumped the no- longer -fascinating toy eagle and hopped to his boot free feet (his mother had given up on getting him in them after an hour of trying) and rushed for the dwarf he rarely got to see.

He made it halfway across the room before his mother caught him around the waist and hoisted him into the air. He found himself deposited on her hip and staring at his baby brother. Frerin’s green eyes were open and peering at Thorin curiously. His curly blond hair was tugged back in a semblance of a braid but a few strands had broken free to curl around his face.

Thorin loved the gold hair that looked like his mothers. He always wanted bright, happy hair, but his hair was dark like night and shadow. Dís’ hair was somewhere between the night and day. A warm brown that was streaked with red.

“What is it?” Frerís asked while she readjusted Thorin on her hip. She poked him with her belt and he scowled. Why couldn’t his father hold him?

“Take them to the lower levels. Have Fundin look after them.” Thraín grabbed her arms and pushed her towards the door. Thorin had never seen his father look so manic. He began to feel an uncomfortable churning in his stomach that reminded him of when he was sick.

“What?” Frerís took a step back and towards the door. Her voice sounded just as not-right as Thraín’s.

At that moment Thraín had locked his eyes with Frerís and said one word that Thorin would come to associate with all that was evil in the world. A name that meant fear and mistrust.

“Saruman.”

His mother gripped both Thorin and Dís closer to her and gasped. Thorin would never forget the way he could feel and hear the noise rumble through her chest. “But he-”

“Is no longer an ally. Get to the lower levels, now!  We will guard your escape.” Frerís turned on her heel and ran out the far exit right as a loud blast sounded somewhere outside. The floor trembled underneath them and screams rose into the air. Frerin started to wail and Thorin clung to his mother. His baby brother dug his tiny hands into Frerís’ hair and buried his tear stained face into her cloak. Thorin held on as well as he could and reached out to grab Frerin’s foot.

He didn’t know what the explosion was, (or what an explosion was) why his father was yelling, or why they were running, but he wanted to help. Dís was still sleeping so she didn’t need him yet.

“Nadad,” He whispered. Frerin tilted his teary face down and stuck his bottom lip out pathetically. He opened his mouth to keep talking but Frerís turned down another hall so quickly Thorin would have fallen if his mother’s arm wasn’t wrapped so securely around him. She pressed against a wall as another blast shook the castle. Bright, green light flooded the hall they’d just turned out of and a horrible noise that might have been a scream blasted with the light.

Frerís regained her footing and fled towards a statue. She ducked behind it and kicked at a stone on the wall with her feet. Thorin hung onto his mother with his right hand and still grasped Frerin’s foot with his left hand.

The wall moved to the side, revealing a secret passage. Thorin stared at it in awe for a moment before Frerís was rushing into the dark room. She bumped her hip against the wall inside the tunnel and the wall slid shut.

It would have been completely dark but for the jewel that hung around Frerís’ neck. A beautiful, sparkling gem that Thorin had fallen asleep looking at since he was a babe. It was about the size of his father’s fist, and shaped like an oval. It was closest in color to a diamond, but it sparkled with the color of all gems, and would shine even in the dark. It was the pride of all dwarves, and the greatest treasure of Erebor. Thorin would learn in later years that Thraín had gifted it to Frerís at the final stage of their courtship to show that she and not the gem, was the greatest jewel.

It was the Arkenstone.

“Be still and quiet my dears,” Frerís whispered into the darkness. The gem cast glowing colors on her face and made the shadows around her seem all the more dire. Thorin held on and shut his mouth. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t speak.

That churning in his stomach had spread up to his throat. Swallowing didn’t make it go away.

The hall was cool and it made Thorin slightly chilly when Frerís ran down it. They were going down steps in a winding staircase made of stone. He had never seen this part of the castle. His mother knew where she was going though, and that was enough for Thorin. They made it down quite a ways before the room was flooded with green, unnatural light and they stumbled forward as air whirled around them. Thoirn bit back a yelp and Frerís gripped them all the tighter.

Dís cried out.

They reached the end of the tunnel and Frerís kicked at the wall again. It opened and she slipped into the room on the other side. It was the barracks, specifically the head office of the barracks. She slammed the door shut behind her and turned to the head dwarf who was protecting the room.

“The tunnel is compromised.”

Fundin rose from his desk and walked to the other side of it the minute Frerís spoke. His own sons, Balin, who was fifteen, and Dwalin, who was six, were crouching in the corner. Balin had a strange looking sword and was very pale.

“Milady!” He reached her and lead her towards the corner. “Thraín should not have sent you-”

“The upper tower had been breached. There was no where else.” Frerís drew herself to her full height and held onto the children. The building shook with another loud blast and Frerin gasped. Thorin held onto his foot tighter and tried not to look frightened in front of his friends. Dwalin had wide eyes and Balin looked nervous as he glanced between his father and Frerís. “They will be on us in a moment.”

“They started down here though!” Fundin stated. He moved a seemingly random tile to the side to reveal a small niche. It was just large enough for two full grown dwarves. “I’ve sent everyone else away to battle the -”

“Then your office will suffice.” Another blast sounded and the door to the office shook dangerously. The tunnel was glowing a faint green. Shouts echoed down the hall, and they were not made by a dwarf. “There is no other compartment?” Fundin shook his head and glanced at the door. He grabbed two battle axes off his back and held them menacingly while he alternated glaring at the door to the hall and the door to the secret tunnel.  

“Hide yourself and your children, milady.”

“And your children?” Fundin refused to turn his head. His grip on the axe tightened.

“Will fight bravely. We will protect you to the last, my queen.”

“Hardly.” She set Thorin down and passed Frerin to him. She passed Dís to Balin and pressed a kiss to each of their heads. She knelt in front of Balin and gripped his shoulder. He still had the strange sword in his free hand. “Get in the tunnel. Now. Protect them I beg of you.” She turned to Thorin and drew him near in a crushing hug. Frerin whimpered pitifully. “Guard your siblings, Thorin. No matter what you hear, do not open that panel. Do not come out. Do not give yourself away.” She slipped a hand to her neck and tugged the Arkenstone up and off before slipping it over his head.

“Do not let anyone else but your father have this. You’ll understand one day.” She pressed another kiss to his head. “I love you. I love you all.”

“Milady,” Fundin said weakly. Frerís pushed herself up and glared at the dwarf warrior with a fierceness that Thorin had never seen.

“Do not think you can order me around, Fundin. They stand a better chance and you know it.” She pulled a sword from her scabbard and hoisted an axe from a pile in the corner. Thorin hadn’t even noticed them. She held them in front of herself with wild and determined eyes. She glanced down at Thorin. “Get in the niche and do not make any noise.”

Thorin nodded his head and stepped backwards. Dwalin grabbed his arm and pulled him into the niche. Fundin slipped the tile back in front of the entrance. It was uncomfortably crowded. Dís was crying softly and Balin was doing his best to rock her. Thorin was nearest the tile with a whimpering Frerin.

“Nadad,” he murmured quietly. His brother stilled as the room outside grew eerily quiet. “Makalat, zataghurufmen.” (No noise, please.) Frerin looked at him with wide eyes and blond hair that seemed to shine with the light of the Arkenstone.

“Baruk Khazâd!” Fundin shouted, and then there was a terrible crashing noise like metal on rock. His mother shouted something and they all huddled closer together. The crashing was joined by a strange clanging, and then a laugh.

It was cold and wholly unnatural. Like the wind and night had been given voice. Thorin found himself thinking of spiders and monsters and heavy darkness that stole the breath from his body on long nights. All the things that scared him.

“The queen has arrived. Where is your husband now, Milady?”

“Is this all you can summon, Saruman? A few cheap tricks and flashing lights? I had expected more from someone who was supposed to be the most powerful being in Middle Earth.”

“Careful how you speak, troll. I am your lord now! Your kingdom will fall! Now, where is the jewel I seek?”

“Release my servant.” The laugh echoed through the room again followed by a loud thud. The wall shook and for a moment Thorin thought the tile would fall.

“I am in command here! Not you, you sniveling quim!” A strangled gasping noise could barely be heard through the wall. Thorin clung to Frerin and tried not to tremble. “Your guard will be the first to die.”

Balin’s hand flew to cover Dwalin’s mouth before he could make a single utterance. Their faces were drawn and pale. “You have been bested, Saruman. Can you not hear it even now? The guard comes for you. You will not leave this room alive.”

“I will not be captured.” Another thud sounded and the room shook. Thorin hunched more over Frerin. He tried to protect the baby with his body, but a little of his head stuck out that Thorin couldn’t see. “The jewel, now please.”

His mother spat out three words. “Your betrayal fails.”

A shout echoed from the outer room and a scream of rage sounded after it. “Fools! If I cannot have it none shall! I curse your house for now until I have what I seek! Magic has robbed me of that which should be mine, and it shall be a blight on your house from now on. By magic, all your family will burn when the first bears that which was entrusted. When the heart meets with the heart of the line, desolation will come!”

Green light flooded the room through the cracks and burned against Thorin’s skin. He knelt further over his sibling and clutched him as tightly as he could while he clenched his eyes. The air felt heavy and tasted rancid, unable to be breathed. The fear he’d felt since he was taken into his mother’s arm filled him through every limb until he couldn’t think around it, and he couldn’t make a single sound. His mother’s scream filled the air with terrible sound until the room seemed to shake with it.

Then the light faded away and left Thorin blinking at the bright spots in his vision. Dwalin’s arm trembled where it was pressed against his side and Dís struggled in Balin’s hold.

Silence. Utter silence. The light was gone and only the Arkenstone lit the room now. It was impossibly heavy around Thorin’s throat and felt as cold as ice.

Years later Thorin would remember the night and be able to feel the stones weight again. He would remember his mother’s scream and think of the trembling of his baby brother in his arms. He would remember huddling with the sons of Fundin in the niche until the guards rescued them.

He would remember being freed and seeing two blanket covered bodies. He would not understand that one was his mother until he was older.  The other was Fundin, who was slain guarding the queen with his own body.

Saruman had escaped. Balin relayed all that they had heard to the guards and King. Thraín reacted to the curse instantly.

The arkenstone was locked up deep in the treasure room where it was hoped that it would never be found. The queen was buried in the heart of the mountain and it was ordered that none should ever desecrate her tomb. It would be opened only when Thraín joined her in eternal rest. Fundin was buried in the royal tombs as well, given every honor assignable. His sons were taken under Thraín’s wings and raised alongside Thorin.

Magic was banished from inside Erebor, and with that, everything changed. They closed their doors to outsiders, using Dale to trade instead of their own marketplace. Allies were not permitted inside the kingdom unless they agreed to be stripped of all magic. Wizards were sent away, magical weapons melted, and magical jewelry destroyed. Anything that was too important to be destroyed was sent to their sister kingdom, Ered Luin.

That had been a hundred and fifty years ago.

Thorin was no longer too young to understand. He was heir apparent to the vast kingdom of Erebor. He was a trained warrior, and a strategic planner. He was well-learned, and had been taught since that night to hate all things magic.

For that was what had strangled the life from his mother while he listened.

At least, that was what his father said. Thorin privately disagreed. Magic had been used to kill his mother, but it was Saruman that had ended her life.

The kingdom prospered through the riches of the mountain and the talent of the dwarves that dwelled in her. Time passed on, and the curse became the whisper of legend. A cautious warning that seemed impossible. For how could the kingdom burn when magic was forsaken?

The answer would come from the most unlikely of creatures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a request from a friend and a plot bunny that won't leave me alone. I'm having a _lot_ of trouble with my other story so I figured I would just write this one as well while I try to poke my other one into submission.
> 
> Also, a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to read my Ori/Dwalin story :)


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo Baggins was not an average hobbit, and he didn’t particularly care. He had not grown up in the Shire, and he _liked_ adventures. Though, he also loved to read and smoke, and a good meal with an after dinner ale never went wrong.

He’d grown up under the study of a wizard, which was not advisable for someone who wanted something like respectability. It was downright scandalous, infact.

He knew how to read five languages, he could speak three, he could brew potions, speak to birds, and knew enchantments to do everyday things.

That was why he hadn’t grown up in the Shire. An orphaned infant who could do magic was about as uncomfortable as one could get. Gandalf offered to train him, and that was how Bilbo found himself as the wizard’s ‘apprentice.’ He traveled around Middle Earth with him, learning all he could about magic and how to control his own, natural abilities. They weren’t anything like Gandalf’s, but they could get out of control if he got angry or scared.

His earliest memory was playing hide and seek with other children, or trying to play hide and seek with other children. He was hiding behind a tree stump when the seeker came around and spotted him. Bilbo had closed his eyes and wished really hard, and a moment later, he’d disappeared.

He’d turned himself invisible without even knowing he could do such a thing.

The other children had panicked and started to throw items at him when he’d managed to make himself reappear. It had hurt. The items (Bilbo could never really remember what they had been) had not been terribly hard, but the pain of their rejection simply because he was different had been more painful than anything else.

Ori found him cowering behind a rock and rubbing at his tear and snot covered face with his dirty sleeve. The young dwarf had cleaned him up, helped him stand, and brought him back to Gandalf.

He spent every summer in Dale after that, until he turned of age. Ori had two brothers, each from a different father, and they lived in the city. He was the youngest and loved to read and write. He could even speak elvish.

He was an outcast like Bilbo. They were fast friends, and Bilbo found that he enjoyed the company of Nori and Dori as well.

He loved the city, and the life that it held. So, when he came of age and Gandalf declared him ‘more or less in control of himself’ Bilbo moved in with the brothers.

They were a family.

Despite his many years at Dale he had never actually been in Erebor. The dwarf city was beautiful and large, and very alluring but he wouldn’t go in. He’d never told anyone else about his magic since he’d been so ostracized as a kid. Only the three brothers and Gandalf knew the truth about his secret.

He wasn’t sure why, but magic was forbidden in the dwarf Kingdom. He knew it had something to do with the royal family, but that was as far as his knowledge went. The one time he had asked Gandalf about it the wizard’s blue eyes had gone sadder than he’d ever seen. The sorrow that radiated from the powerful wizards had made the nearby plant life wilt.

He’d not asked again. He was content to admire the kingdom from the outside and not attempt to enter its gates.

“Think you can get Dori here quicker?” Nori asked as he flipped a coin between his fingers. He’d mastered the trick when he was young and used it to distract attention from whatever his other hand was doing. Currently it was playing with a tassel at the hood of Bilbo’s cloak.

It had been a beautiful morning. The sun was warm on his skin and they’d managed to sell several items.

“That would be wrong, Nori.” Ori huffed as he picked lint off one of the quilts. His fingers were ink stained and Bilbo had to smile at the sight. Ori would never be ink-free. The dwarf loved writing and sketching far too much. He was studying to be a scribe and had hopes of being with the royal court one day.

“Well, you could always just not tell-” Nori started to suggest before he froze. Someone was headed towards them.

“I want to look at blankets today.” Five dwarves approached the cart that Bilbo manned with the brothers Ri and they all put on their sale faces. Which was just a fancy way of saying they smiled and tried not to look mischievous.

There was a pregnant dwarf with scarlet robes and warm brown hair that was neatly braided back. Probably to keep cool. She was holding the hand of a blond dwarf with a wide smile. His green eyes were wide and slightly dull.

There was a dwarf with a bomber hat that was turned up at the ends. He was laughing at something the female dwarf had said and poked the fourth dwarf in the side. He was a large burly dwarf covered in tattoos and weapons. He looked intense.

The last dwarf was where Bilbo’s eyes decided to stay. The dwarf was tall and handsome and with a small, fond smile as he looked at the pregnant dwarf. Bilbo could see family resemblance between the three of them, aside from the fact that they all wore their beards short.

The dwarf had dark hair that bore two braids and was sprinkled with grey. His eyes were a pale blue that Bilbo instantly liked.

He couldn’t help the slight smile that lifted his lips.

-[]-[]-[]-

“You really should consider some flowers or something, just a little something to brighten the place up.” Sunlight filtered into the room and made blond hair look like fine strands of gold. If Thorin covered his ears, he could almost imagine it was someone else talking. One that he could hardly remember...

“How do you know I don’t have any?” He asked with a little amusement as he turned the pages of his text.

“Because Dís would have pointed them out, obviously.” Frerin turned and faced Thorin with a large smile. His green eyes sparkled with a dull light, always happy.

He had been blind since that night so long ago. Thorin had taken the brunt of the blast (it had taken forever for his hair to grow back out) but the brightness had rendered the princeling unable to see.

“I hardly see a reason for flowers.” Thorin insisted. He set his studies aside and rose slowly. His neck was stiff from reading in the same position for hours. He was fairly certain that was why his siblings had chosen to disrupt him. The twins seldom let a day pass where they didn’t drag him away from ‘work’ at least once.

“They’re bright, smell good, and look nice.” Dís tilted her head and studied Thorin with a small smile. Her thick hair was pulled back in one large braid, made out of several smaller braids. She claimed that it was cooler that way.

“Everything Thorin’s not then.” Frerin said with a laugh. Thorin ignored him.

“I’m sorry, why are you two hooligans here? I hardly believe you just wished to annoy me.”

“We want to go to the marketplace. We simply decided to kidnap you out of the goodness of our heart. Plus, you’ve been locked away in here for _hours_.” Frerin said cheerfully. He walked away from the window he had been standing in front of and crossed his arms over his chest. He liked to stand in sunlight. He had once explained it by saying that he simply enjoyed the warmth on his skin.

Thorin rarely noticed things like sunlight on his skin.

Dís looped her arm through his and pressed close. She was cuddlier since she’d entered her last trimester. The baby would be born soon. “Dwalin and Bofur have agreed to accompany us. Balin has to study with Gróin so he can’t come.”

“Just a few hours, nadad, that’s all we’re asking.” Frerin added quietly. His green eyes were pleading and Thorin, just like that, felt his resolve dissolve.

“Very well.”

Thorin found himself being led outside to the town of Dale that sat at the foot of their kingdom. The city was large and bright and full of vivid colors, loud voices, and life. It was a center for trade unlike any other in Middle Earth, and vendors could always be found from everywhere.

He liked the items from the west and south best. They were always different from anything to be found in Erebor. They were always brightly colored and made from luscious, warm fabrics. The herbs were more varied, and the trinkets always wooden, but not from the spruce or oak they had.

“I want to look at blankets today.” Dís said matter of factly. She took Frerin’s arm, who grabbed Thorin’s arm, and dragged them all to a cart with colorful quilts displayed all over. “Help me find a soft one.” She said to Frerin quietly as she guided his hand to the cart. Thorin watched the interaction quietly before lifting his head to look at the cart owner.

It was a hobbit with a wide smile. He was probably in his thirties, barely of age judging by the youthfulness of his face and the playfulness of his clothing. His hair was golden, with just a hint of red, and hung about his face in shiny, soft curls. His eyes were a strange mixture of blue and green, and as vibrant as any jewel. He had his lips lifted in a lopsided grin that showed just a hint of his teeth, and made his eyes crinkle around the corners. There was a dwarf on either of his sides. One with ginger hair that was organized in an impressive star pattern, and the other with a bowl cut and knit cardigan, but Thorin hardly noticed them.

He had seen one other hobbit in his life, and she had been a young lass who sold jams. They were delicious, and she was remarkably kind. He remembered her telling his siblings a story while he went about the actual shopping with Balin.

He’d never met a male hobbit.

His curls were mostly loose, though he wore two braids in his hair. One was something Thorin had never seen before, but the other was clearly done after someone’s house. A braid of friendship then. There were vines woven into the braid, and it was clasped with a simple wooden bead that depicted a flower.

“Bilbo Baggins,” The hobbit said with a lilting burr. His eyes flicked to Thorin’s head where the gold crown sat and then to the silver circlet on Dís head and finally the gold crown on Frerin’s head before returning to Thorin. “At your service.”

“Nori son of Noín at your service.” The ginger dwarf added.

“Ori son of Loíun at your service.” The sweater wearing dwarf finished. The trio bowed together and continued to smile.

“Feel free to look at anything. Pick it up, toss it about, just return it to the cart when you’re done if you please.”

“These are lovely,” Dís complemented with an easy smile. She had a blue and green quilt in her hand that she was eying. Frerin had his hand on a brown and yellow one that looked earthy.

“This one feels soft. The textures are nice as well.” Dís snatched it up and held it out to it’s full length. It depicted sunflowers along the outer edge, with a lion in the center. It was beautifully designed and expertly stitched.

“What’s on it?”

“A quilted lion surrounded by sunflowers. The colors are incredible. It’s orange and red and yellow with just a bit of green for the flowers.”

“Good for a lad or lass then.”

“Do you make these?” Thorin asked while Frerin and Dís continued examining the quilt. Bilbo nodded with a smile.

“Ori and I make the quilts. Nori makes all the wood items. The baked goods are by...” The hobbit trailed off as a third dwarf with his grey hair pulled up in intricate braids showed up.

“Sorry about the delay. The tavern was ludicrously busy and I was very rudely cut off by an elderly woman with a stic-” The dwarf stopped abruptly and stared at Thorin, Frerin and Dís with an open mouth. He had a tray of sandwiches, apples, and ale. Their lunch apparently. The tray tipped downwards and the contents on it began to slip down. Nori’s hand shot out to catch the lunch.

“Majesty! Majesties!” The dwarf let the tray go and doubled over in a deep and unnecessary bow. “Sire, wel-”

“That is not necessary.” Thorin said mildly. Dwalin moved in closer to his side with a snicker. He tried not to roll his eyes.

“Is someone bowing again?” Frerin asked while he took the quilt back from Dís. She nodded her head.

“Yes.”

“This is Dori, son of Duín. He is the one that bakes.” Bilbo tugged on the still bowing dwarf’s arm until he was upright. “And we don’t let him out often. Would you like the quilt, milady?”

“Yes, I think I would. Bofur?” The cheery dwarf stepped forward with her bag and pulled a small purse of coins from inside. “What is your price, Master Baggins?”

“Bilbo please, and 5 coins.” He glanced at Ori who nodded his head with a soft smile. The beads in his braids rattled against each other.

A strange hissing noise sounded in the cart behind the group and instantly drew Thorin and Dwalin’s attention. He turned just in time to see flames spread across the top of the dwarf’s cart as a human ducked across the street.

Dwalin, trained to respond to any danger around  the royal family as a threat, grabbed Thorin and Frerin’s arm and pushed them into Bilbo’s stall, under the hanging quilts. Bofur grabbed Dís and hauled her out of the way of the flames as shouts filled the air. Thorin turned his head so he could see what was going on while Dwalin put himself bodily in between them and the fire.

They were raised to be terrified of fire. They were cursed to burn.

Thorin was royalty, his life was not his to spend, but he was not going to just sit by while civilians property burned. Curse or not, he did not fear flame. He would not be claimed by any fate just sitting around. If he was destined to burn, he would greet it head on without fear.

Frerin’s eyes were wide and his nostrils flared as he smelt the smoke. Worry lined his face at the threat that he couldn’t see, and the confusion of not knowing what was happening. Thorin tugged Frerin nearer and took his brother’s hands in his own. He twisted his head back and spotted the human that had started the fire.

The man went for the stall to the right of Bilbo’s and grabbed a handful of gold chains that the elderly lady running the stall had on display. She reached forward to stop him with a cry.

The man drew his hand back and hit her full on the face. The sound of bone crunching could be heard clearly and left Thorin feeling ill as the lady crumpled to the ground. He squeezed Frerin’s hand and twisted free from Dwalin’s hold.

The thief bounded away with a final shout, leaving the elderly lady crouched on the ground, her nose bleeding all over her hand. Ori dropped by her side and wrapped an arm around her to help her from completely tumbling into the dirt.

Dwalin tried to press him back down while covering as much of Frerin as he could from the fire’s blaze. Dori shouted something about water while Bofur helped Dís down. The clank of Dwalin’s axe being removed from his back felt startlingly loud.

“Dwalin, sakhabhl ghelekhur!” (guard him (Frerin) well) He barked and spun on his heel. He took one step forward and found himself facing the hobbit who looked furious.

“Coward!” Bilbo shouted, glaring at the man. he grabbed up an apple from the tray in Nori’s hand and scrambled on top of the cart. He adopted a wide stance and then drew his hand back. He exhaled and then he lobbed the apple forward, and right at the retreating human’s head.

It hit squarely and the man stumbled. A dwarf in the booth beside him tackled him to the ground while other merchants rushed to help him subdue the thief. Nori put the platter aside and dashed around the cart to aid Dori in putting out the remaining flames.

Thorin joined him, whipping off his cloak to smother the flames. They were already almost under control from the help of the other vendors.

He could see Bilbo slip off the cart and look to see how they were doing. The last of the flames were being put out and that apparently satisfied the hobbit. He turned his gaze on Ori who was helping the elderly lady up and wiping away her blood with end of his scarf. He was mumbling something quietly in common that was apparently making her feel better.

“You’re right, Agnes. Apples are necessary fruit.” Bilbo said as he walked over to her. The woman chuckled and winced slightly.

“Thank you for that, lads.” She looked over at Dis who was being helped up and her mouth popped open in surprise.

Thorin tried not sigh. He was tired of that reaction. The whole row had just nearly caught fire and everyone was going to get all wide-eyed because they were royalty?

“So,” Bilbo said with a smile as he rocked back on his heels, “come down often?”

Frerin laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

Thorin stretched his legs out in front of himself and considered the tax proposal in his hand for the third time.

“Well,” Frerin drawled, dragging the last letter out as long as he could. “not that this isn’t utterly fascinating, but I have to go.”

Dís lowered her own paper and peered at her twin with a raised eyebrow. She had her bare feet propped up on Thorin’s lap. He’d tried to stop her the first time she’d used him as a footstool but the glare he received had made him decide that it would be safer not to pester her.

“Where? Where do you have to be?”

“Places.” Frerin stated with an easy smile. He stood up and stretched like a cat that had been sunbathing too long. “Yesterday was largely wasted thanks to shenanigans.”

“The fire?” Dís asked with a tilt of her head. Frerin nodded his head.

Thorin kept his head down and tried to quiet the sudden stirring in his chest. Now was not a good time for it. Not with his siblings present. He had purposely avoided thinking about it. If he ignored it then it would go away and he wouldn’t have to consider the way his heart had beat so oddly at the sight of the hobbit. “You’re calling a fire ‘shenanigans?”

“Well, aside from meeting four lovely dwarve-”

“One was a hobbit.” Thorin corrected automatically. His eyes widened and he flipped a page of the report in an attempt to look natural. Hopefully Dís didn’t catch onto the tiny slip.

“Brother?”  His cheeks (traitorously!) heated up at his sister's unwavering gaze.

“Really? A hobbit?” Frerin’s grin widened and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “That’s fascinating. I don’t think I’ve met a hobbit before. Bilbo I’m guessing? It would explain why he was so friendly… Anyway,  I have to go because father has decided that we need another feast to show off our wealth to the visiting dignitaries. Well, it might be a ball. I’m not certain.” He shrugged dismissively. “Either way, there will be dancing which means I have to attend another lesson and make sure Erebor is ready for me.”

“You’ll be fabulous.” Dís laughed. Several strands of her hair broke loose from her braid and framed her face in sunlit locks. Her eyes danced with joy and mischief. It was far too rare that Thorin got to see her so delighted.

“As if I could ever be anything else.” Frerin cocked his head to the side and looked in their general direction. He was almost looking at them. “Have you seen me?” He twirled a lock of hair between his fingers with a flirty smile. “Everyone wants some of this.”

“Which is why you are currently hounding us.” Thorin noted with a wry smile. The tax report was growing duller by the moment. He had managed to avoid Dís inquiries though. His attractions were best left unnoticed or discussed. Not that he was often subject to finding someone attractive, but the endless teasing that ensued was not something that ever needed to be repeated.

“I will have you know I have several places I could have been. I simply thought I would grace you lot with my presence since you are all so dull.”

“We’re working, silly.” Dís chuckled, her smile still firmly in place. “And you’ve distracted us from the real subject.”

“Which was?”

“That Thorin blushed when we mentioned yesterday.”

“He did?” Frerin’s smile grew entirely too large. Thorin carefully kept still and his gaze on his work.

“Still is.” Dís’ smirk was extremely unbecoming. “Rather a curious state. I’m rather bent on discovering what is causing it.”

“The only thing that happened yesterday was the fire.”

“The only thing that happened for you two was the fire. I worked in court and surveyed the mines.” Thorin pointed out without lifting his gaze.

“Regardless, I can’t actually stay  to find out. Father has informed me that the royal to-do is a must attend for us all and I do have a dance lesson and I am in need of a new coat. I apparently spilt wine on my last one.” Frerin set his cup aside and stood up. “So, if you boring people will excuse me, I’m going to go to the royal dressers and see about an outfit for the banquet/ball/excuse to dress up.” Frerin flicked his hair and a flutter his eyes before grinning as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

The room felt extremely quiet. He could feel Dís gazing at him with eyes that saw too much. He carefully set a slip of parchment aside and looked over the next proposal. It was less interesting than the taxes had been.

He refused to look up. The seconds ticked by slowly, each one feeling heavier than the former. He had spent hours working with his sister by his side, it was part of royal life. They were not given to having an over abundance of friends. Trust was slow to be earned, and rarely showed to be true.

He was used to trying to ignore that gaze. He had very rarely succeeded.

“I’m thinking of green for the baby's waking ceremony.”

He risked a glimpse up. “Green? Suitable. It’s gender neutral.”

“That was my intention. I’m thinking of asking Bilbo Baggins to make it.”

“The hobbit?” Thorin asked without looking at his sister. Dís was, of course, not fooled. His sister was far too perceptive.

“Yes. I found him charming and his skill with a needle is really unsurpassed. I intend to invite him and his companion, young Ori, to tend me in the castle. I want to see how he is with actual clothing or if he is more suited to blankets.” She paused and fingered the parchments she was supposed to be reading with a hint of a frown. “And he showed such courage yesterday…”

“They all did.” Her eyes shot back to Thorin and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a small smile. She set the parchments aside and folded her hands over her stomach.

“Indeed they did. I found the apple particularly inspired.”

“His aim was impressive.” Thorin conceded with a smile of his own. Dís’ eyes brightened and Thorin decided he was fighting a lost cause. He lifted his head and met her gaze. “And he was handsome. Are you happy now, sister?”

“Yes. It’s far too rare that I can tease you. You need to date more, brother.”

“Well, seeing as I’ve only met the hobbit once, and know nothing about him save his name and craft, I hardly think I shall be dating any time soon.”

“Maybe he’ll attend the feast?” Dís nudged Thorin’s stomach with the tip of her foot when he kept his gaze down. “After all, if he’s showing our wealth it will be open to all. You two can become acquainted then.”

“Send for him if you wish sister. Invite him to work with our tailors. Though, you may wish to invite the dwarves as well. He seemed quite fond of them.”

Dís eyes lit with delight. “I will, brother.”

Thorin couldn’t help but wonder what he had just gotten himself into.

-[]-[]-[]-

Dori, Nori, and Ori were rather an odd lot. Bilbo knew that abstractly, but he always found it surprising when other people acted like they didn’t fit in.

That was probably the reason they had gravitated towards each other. The odd tended to attract the odd to itself.

“Lindir paid me double for the scroll.” Ori said quietly as he set a basket of rolls on the dinner table. Dori was finishing up the ham while they waited for Nori to return home for the evening. They would all sit down and pointedly not ask what he had been doing for the last few hours.  

That was the fun part of living with a thief.

“Was that the contract or license?”

“The sonnet.” Bilbo’s lips spread in an easy smile and he set the book he’d been leafing through a side. He was perched on the windowsill across from the table. It was a favorite reading spot and there was often a battle between him and Ori to claim it.

“That’s excellent! So drinks are on you tomorrow?” Ori laughed, a quick, bright sound that mixed well with the moonlight filtering into the room. His beads clinked at the motion and made a familiar sort of music that Bilbo always felt at home with.

“You’ll be able to open a proper shop soon.” Dori declared from the stove. He pulled the ham out and considered it with pursed lips. He was very critical of any meat that he served.

“Or get an apprenticeship with the court.” Bilbo said quietly. He watched as Ori blushed and Dori stiffened.

The door to their small home flung open and Nori stomped inside dramatically before pressing the door back shut. He slid a bar across the door and pressed against it for a moment. Everything was quiet for a long moment. Until Nori tilted his head back, sticking his nose in the air. “Is that ham?””

“Depends, are there guards chasing you?”

Nori shook his head and pushed off the door. He swung his quarter staff off his back and leaned it against the wall before depositing his cloak on top of it. “Nah, just making sure that Nuín didn’t see me. She’s gotten a bit more...insistent?” He wrinkled his face and gave his head a little shake as he headed for the table. He stole a carrot from Dori and propped his feet up on the table. “Yeah. Insistent. We’ll go with that.” He winked exaggeratedly at Bilbo who couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Nori had been pursued by Nuín since Bilbo had first met him.

“Feet off the table!” Dori set the ham on the table and shoved Nori until he was sitting properly in the chair. Ori took a seat beside him and Bilbo hopped down from the window to join the trio at the dinner table.

This was a very hobbit tradition that Bilbo had pushed on the brothers. Dori had taken to the simple idea immediately and Ori had been forced to join because of his age. Nori had agreed to the shared meal because it had one rule.

No arguing.

Sharing at least a meal everyday was one of the most important things to hobbit families. It was a time when news was shared, food was enjoyed, laughter had, and bonds strengthened. He couldn’t imagine going without it.

“Update?” Dori inquired politely once everyone was sitting. He passed out the napkins while Ori took the lead.

“I finished six scrolls today. Also, I received two request for a quilt. Amanda has had her baby.”

Nori snatched another carrot up while Dori cut the ham. “That makes four request, right?” Bilbo inquired as he took a roll. Ori nodded his head.

“More elves arrived in town today. These were from Rivendell. I’m not sure what is going down in the castle but there are at least twenty dignitaries in there.” Nori said around his mouthful of carrot. Dori smacked his arm and told him ‘manners!’

“That explains the feast tomorrow night.” Bilbo mumbled distractedly. Dori served the ham and vegetables and it smelled like heaven. He hadn’t eaten in hours.

“It has something to do with the elf prince. He is apparently of age.” Dori sat up straighter as he spoke and managed to look knowledgeable and proper.

“Prince Legolas? He’s at least five hundred years old!” Nori spluttered with a wave of his hand that very nearly knocked his cup over.

“Elves are immortal, they don’t rush thing-” Dori was cut off by a loud knock at the door that made all three dwarves and hobbit freeze. They all stared at the door as another knock that rattled the door sounded.

They glanced at each other and each shook their heads. Bilbo felt his stomach clench with worry. It was dinner time. None of them were expecting anyone. Had Nori stolen something then? Or was someone coming to complain?

They had too many dangers in one house. Magic, thieving, and disrespectful dwarves. It was enough stress to put anyone off their dinner.

He slipped out of his chair and deposited his napkin on the table. Another glance at the brothers revealed that they still didn’t know who it was. Bilbo gave a mental shrug and shook out his hands. He was being ridiculous. There was nothing to worry about. They were probably just eating late. Whoever was calling simply didn’t realize they were eating.

He slipped the bar off the door and tugged it open to find one of the dwarves that had escorted the royal siblings through the market. He was still wearing the unique hat and he had a large smile. His eyes were a becoming shade of brown and were crinkled around the corners. He bowed at the waist. “Bofur at your service.”

“Bilbo Baggin’s at yours. Good evening! How can I help you?”

“I’ve come to request your presence at the palace.” Bilbo stood still for a moment and tried to keep his brow from furrowing because that made no sense.

“I’m sorry? Were you looking for one of the brothers Ri-”

“They’re welcome to come as well. Especially the youngin.” Bofur winked at the other dwarves who were gathering behind Bilbo.

“Right now?” He wasn’t able to keep the confusion out of his voice. Why would anyone want to see him? He hadn’t even used magic yesterday!

“The sooner the better.” Bilbo glanced over his shoulder to see Dori and Nori already gathering their cloaks. Ori was standing still with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. He still had his fork in his hand. Bilbo felt far better looking at him. At least he wasn’t the only one thrown off by this.

“Simply allow me to fetch my cloak.” Bilbo said with a bow. He turned and left the door open with a wide-eyed glance at Dori and Nori that was returned with a shrug. Dori took Ori’s cloak up and put it around the young dwarf’s shoulders while Bilbo tied his own on. He briefly considered a walking stick, it could double as a weapon, but decided against it.

“After you, sir.” Bofur smiled again and slipped off the door step. The trio of dwarves followed after Bilbo quietly, the tassels on their hooded cloaks tossing in the wind.

It felt extremely quiet outside. Fear wasn’t something that Bilbo was unaccustomed to. Not everyone liked magic when it was found in someone that was not a wizard. People feared what they didn’t understand, and even the wisest didn’t really understand magic. There was something different about Erebor though. While most lands were simply wary and distant, Erebor was cold to magic. There was a deep rooted fear that encouraged a hate beyond reason. Dale would not even sell magical trinkets. It was against even selling talisman.

Bilbo had feared for himself more than once. He kept quiet about his skills and kept a wide berth from the kingdom of dwarves. He had never even seen the royal family before yesterday.

And that had been unexpected. The dwarves had been remarkably kind (and the eldest prince remarkably handsome.) He’d had no idea how to react to them so he’d acted like it hadn’t been anything special. Then that blasted thief had appeared and he’d very nearly used his magic to subdue the man.

He had never used his magic against another. He had felt it fiercely at that moment. A pressure under his skin that had nearly erupted. His magic was a constant thrum under his skin. A familiar warmth that nothing dissipated or negated.

“What do you think he wants?”

Bilbo hadn’t even noticed Nori approaching his side. Ori flanked him on the other side while Dori took the back. He felt absurdly protected by the simple motion. “I have no idea.”

“Then you haven’t…”

“Of course he hasn’t.” Ori cut across before Bilbo could reply. “We all know what that would mean. Maybe this is because of the thief and fire?”

“Yes, lets not give into despair when we’ve been invited to the palace.” Dori huffed. Bofur glanced over his shoulder but kept walking. They were at the gates now, which were far more massive up close. Bilbo had never felt so small in all his life. They would have taken a long time to carve, and had to weigh a ton. How had they even been hung?

“If we were in trouble there would surely be more guards.” Nori added.

“And no secrecy.” Ori flashed a wide, charming smile at one of the guards they past and earned a head nod in return.

“Just a little ahead.” Bofur said over his shoulder before taking a right down a long, narrow bridge. Bilbo’s hands shook just looking at it. He purposefully kept his gaze forward and did not look down. He looked up instead, and nearly drew to a stop.

There was no place like this. He had been to Ered Luin once in his youth, and he’d visited the Iron Hills last winter, but they fell short of the splendor that was Erebor. He wanted to stop and look, to just absorb all that was around him. The paths were connected by bridges over vast chasms-and infinite number seemed to stretched over his head in delicate arches- and the pillars that supported the city were too tall to see an end to. They were intricately carved, and were made directly from the mountain. The entire place was lit with lamps and star light that reflected off polished stone in a silvery color that made the entire place feel ethereal. Almost as though Bilbo had left the realm of the world.

They had carved the mountain into a home, and truly showed the beauty they saw to the rest of the world.

“This way.” They reached the end of the bridge, which Bilbo had not even realized was nearing, and Bofur pulled a complicatedly carved green door open with a bow. Bilbo waited for a moment before Dori pushed him forward and he realized he was supposed to go in.

Right then. There was no point in delaying. Whatever was on the other side of that door, Bilbo would face it with squared shoulders.

He walked forward into the firelit room with his family behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

There was, Thorin supposed, something to be said for being royalty. No one else would be capable of doing what they had just done. Who else could summon four people from their homes in the middle of the night and not raise a ruckus? Who else could simply state that they wanted to hire four individuals and not get a second look.

Well, they got a second look but no complaint. They weren’t allowed to receive a complaint. They were to be given whatever their hearts desired.

Still, it was sobering to see four very different, and very frightened faces enter the room they had chosen to meet in. Perhaps a little more explanation would not have gone amiss.

“Welcome to Erebor.” He said as he stood from the table that they had stacked with papers. Dís and Frerin remained seated while Dwalin took a post by the door with Bofur on the other side. The three dwarves and hobbit glanced at each other before bowing deeply.

“Your majesties!” Bilbo nearly squeaked. The halfling swallowed thickly, and loudly, and continued. “To what do we owe the honor?”

“Please, take a seat.”

Another glance before Bilbo shrugged and went to the chairs. He sat down and folded his hands neatly in his lap before settling a curious gaze on Thorin.

It caused an odd stirring in the dwarf’s stomach. He wasn’t certain why it was there. He firmly squashed it and looked at the hobbit’s eyes.

They were greener than they had been. He was almost certain of it. “We would like to offer the four of you positions in the court.” Dís said with a calm smile and sparkling eyes.

The dwarves all shared another glance while Bilbo’s eyes merely widened. “You-you do?”

“You acted bravely yesterday, and your wares are quite impressive. I am to have a child soon,” her hands rested on her swollen stomach and a small, unthinking smile quirked her lips, “and I should very much like it if you would design the clothes.”

“Of course, Ori is welcome to join you.” Frerin added. Bilbo’s gaze moved to the blond and the stirring in Thorin’s chest intensified.

“Ori is a scribe by nature. He would be far more useful in that position. His skill with illumination knows no equal. He can write in khuzdul, common and elvish. He speaks four languages and he can record an average of thirty words a minute.” Bilbo responded quickly. The young dwarf blushed a vibrant red at his side while the eldest dwarf beamed with pride at his sibling.

“What’s the catch?” The star-haired dwarf, Nori, asked bluntly. Dori’s glared at him and Thorin found himself wanting to smile. He’d shot that very look at Frerin more times than he could count.

“There is none, laddie.” Dwalin said from the back. He had his broad arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. “The positions are open and you all happen to fit them well. You acted brave yesterday, and that speaks to character.”

“Loyalty and honor.” Thorin supplied. Bilbo’s eyes drifted back to them, nearly blue.

Perhaps it was the lighting. “That is what we seek.”

“Then I see no problem. I’d be happy to assist you, milady.” Bilbo smiled and reached for the paper that had been set in front of him. It was a long contract and his eyes grew larger as he looked at it. “Goodness.” he mumbled.

“Where would you wish us?” Dori pointed between himself and his brother.

“You we would have as a baker. Your treats are worthy of the valar themselves.” Dori flushed under Frerin’s praise and sat taller. Bilbo flipped to the second page of the contract.

“I’d require Master Nori.” Dwalin said simply. “He has skills that can be quite useful.” He held the ginger-haired dwarf’s gaze and Thorin had a shocking moment where he realized they were acquainted. What had the dwarf done?

“That sounds vaguely ominous.” Bilbo murmured as he flipped to another page. “What did you do, Nori?” The dwarf smirked.

“The usual.” It was said with a tone that implied a long history. What a curious thing these four were. The dwarves were obviously brothers, which meant they’d had different fathers. A thing that was all but unheard of among dwarves. But how had the hobbit joined their group? A solitary hobbit that got along so well with dwarves and wore braids in his hair. Hardly usual.

Thorin was very much looking forward to learning more.

-[]-[]-[]-

Bilbo was not the sort of hobbit to ever openly question the motives of another.

However, he was very close to doing so by the end of his first week of employment with the royal court. It was nice to have such an esteemed job, and the materials were far nicer than any he could have afforded otherwise. They were all permitted to remain living in their house. (And that had made Bilbo laugh, that they were ‘permitted’ to reside where they had for the last twenty years.) The pay was far nicer, and the hours more regular.

However, he wasn’t certain his skill was what had garnered him the position. By noon of his first day on the business, he was joined by the most unlikely dwarf.

He hadn’t thought much of Thorin’s presence at first. The dwarf was quiet and stood fairly aloof from the actual proceedings. Bilbo just figured he was silently supporting his sister.

The second day Thorin had arrived near lunch and they actually held something that might have been a conversation. To be a crowned prince, Thorin was extremely awkward at casual talk. It had made Bilbo feel extremely proud of his own social skills.

The third day Bilbo began to grow suspicious. Thorin appeared twice, both times for nearly an hour. The conversation came more easily and he was a nice companion while Bilbo went about his work. Which was extremely dull to watch. Embroidery, while beautiful when finished, was not what one would call exciting.

The fourth day brought an early appearance of Thorin who came bearing scones and tea. Bilbo, after tasting the scones, decided he would not ask questions and simply enjoy the companionship. He was polite, smart, and easy on the eyes so Bilbo had no reason to object to his presence. The dwarf also had an exquisite voice that made listening delightful.

The fifth and sixth day went much the same, with Thorin appearing for elevensies one day and afternoon tea on the next. Bilbo answered any questions as truthfully as he could and tried to remain relaxed. It wasn’t difficult when he thought of the dwarf as Thorin, but then he would see the crown and find himself growing tongue tied.

Relaxed went out the proverbial window on the seventh day. He heard about it from Nori who somehow snuck to his level without anyone seeing.

“Don’t leave the shop today. Keep your head down and don’t speak with anyone.”

Bilbo looked up from the tunic he was hemming with a startled frown. The new ‘spy’ was standing in front of him with eyes that were scanning the area behind Bilbo in worry. His hands were clenched at his side and his entire body was tense in a pose that suggested he was ready to flee.

“Nori? Whatever are you going on about?” He set aside his needle and scissors as the dwarf’s eyes once again met his.

“You haven’t heard then? They caught a trader trying to bring in a simple set of rocks for rune casting.”

“Divination?” It was harmless and a very iffy form of magic. The runes hardly ever actually told the real future. Few people possessed a true seers gift.

Nori’s eyes narrowed. He placed both his palms flat on the table and leaned forward with an intent stare. “Magic, Bilbo.” He pressed closer as Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat. The stone under his feet suddenly didn’t feel too solid. The room was spinning at the least.

“What-what happened to him?”

“He was third time offender.” Nori said quietly. “That was the last strike. I fear it will be death.”

“What about first time offender?” Bilbo squeaked. He swallowed and tried not to look like he was about to faint. Stars flashed at the edge of his vision and he realized he wasn’t breathing. He opened his mouth and sucked in a breath to remedy the problem. Nori’s eyes flashed with worry.

“They base it on what the perpetrator does. Bringing in a magical trinket is a minor offense.” His gaze held Bilbo and there was more worry in them than Bilbo had ever seen directed at him. “Being magic and entering the kingdom? It’s a capital offense.” He swallowed and stepped back so that he was no longer in Bilbo’s space. “That means certain death, Bilbo.” He grabbed Bilbo’s upper arm in a tight hold that would probably leave a bruise. “Do not get caught.”

“But I didn’t sneak in! No one told me that-”

Nori shook his head a few ginger strands of hair broke free. “It doesn’t matter.” He insisted. “You entered the kingdom with magic and everybody in Erebor or Dale knows magic is not permitted.”

“So I can be executed because of a quirk of my birth and ignorance?” That was hardly fair. He hadn’t even been checked for magic when he entered Erebor. It was their negligence! Why would he hang?

“Essentially.”

“Well,” Bilbo swallowed and took his needle back up. His hand only trembled a slight bit. The fabric suddenly felt far coarser under his fingers. “That’s lovely.”

“What is lovely?” A third voice echoed in the empty shop. Bilbo jerked violently and nearly flung his needle. Nori drew a knife from his pocket so quickly that Bilbo didn’t even see the limb move. He knew the deep, rumbling voice and it made his skin feel tight with alarm. His breath caught and his fingers spasmed on top of the table.  

That was someone who could very easily end his comfortable existence. It was someone who was actually a reason for the banishment of magic.

It was someone he was growing to like.

Bilbo swallowed carefully and plastered on a smile as he turned on his heel. The Crowned Prince stood behind him with a basket and a bottle of something. He was wearing cobalt blue-which seemed to be the royal families favorite color- and black braies. He had a silver weskit on, with his fur coat thrown on top. His dark hair was braided with the three plaits that were always present, and he had a mithril crown on his head. He smiled at seeing Bilbo, but the smile faded away as he took in Nori. His gaze hardened and he seemed to stand even taller.

“Good morning!” Bilbo stammered. He paused, eased his smile as it was already making his mouth and jaws hurt and continued. “I didn’t expect you, Majesty. Master Nori was informing me that we are to have company for tonights dinner. Cousins we have not seen in a over long time.”

The lie came easily as they always did. Thorin’s pale gaze flickered to Nori and his expression seemed to harden even more.

“I see. Do you often spend your lunch hour here, spymaster?” Thorin made the title sound like a grievous insult. He glared at the ginger dwarf and Bilbo had to work not to frown in confusion. What had Nori done? Were they not allowed to take breaks together?

Was there a book of rules he could read that would help him not be arrested? He had a feeling he was really going to need it. Especially since Thorin kept hanging around. He hadn’t grown up in anything close to a court and had no idea what all the unspoken rules were about proper behaviour.

“Hardly ever,” Nori replied hastily with a polite bow. “I merely wanted to let old Bilbo know that he had to be on better behaviour tonight or we’d be kicked out of the house by Dori.” He patted Bilbo on the back and bowed again. “I’ll -er-I have to go now.” He gave Bilbo a half frantic look and then all but ran out of the room.

He felt vaguely betrayed. Why on earth had Nori, who was practically a brother, just abandoned him? Someone was about to be bloody-well hanged for magic and he was left alone with the Prince? One of the ‘lets get rid of all magic’ leaders?

It took Bilbo a minute to realize he was gaping at the door like a fish who suddenly found itself on a butcher’s block. He shut his mouth, unclenched his hands, and turned back to Thorin.

“Sorry, Sire, he is a bit… eccentric?” He winked in what he hoped was a relaxed manner at the still slightly glowering Prince and leaned back against the table. “That’s what we’ll call it anyway.” Thorin turned his glare from the door that Nori had rushed out of to look back at Bilbo.

“I brought lunch.” He lifted the basket and bottle as though Bilbo hadn’t already guessed their purpose, “I had hoped we might eat on the upper bridge.”

Bilbo’s skin tingled at the thought of the height. “Which one?”

“The unfinished one. It has quite the view.” Thorin lowered the basket and looked over Bilbo’s shoulder at what was a blank wall. He looked like he was gathering courage. “And no other ever visits it.”

“Sounds like an adventure.” Bilbo pushed off the table and dusted his hands off on his breeches. The dwarf’s eyes followed the movement and the hard set of his jaw relaxed slightly. Bilbo put on his widest smile and strode forward. He could feel a faint tingling under his skin that he hadn’t noticed with Nori. It was his magic rising, ready to defend him against whatever had frightened him. Which wasn’t a good reaction as it was the thought of magic that had caused the fear.

“You are not opposed to the arrangements?” Something flickered deep in Thorin’s eyes that made Bilbo pause and think. He’d been around dwarves for a long while and he knew very few who were as proper and utterly closed off as Thorin. Dwarves were secretive by nature, of course, but once trust was earned the earner was awarded with learning the marvelous personalities of the dwarf in question.

Most dwarves saw how well he got on with Dori, Nori, and Ori and were more relaxed around him for it. Thorin did the opposite. He tensed up whenever Bilbo was around the other dwarves. “Not opposed at all.” He answered honestly with a smile that was no longer faked.

Tension slowly leaked out of Thorin’s shoulder as Bilbo approached him. He held out his hands and took the bottle from the dwarf. It was a wine of some sorts.

The climb to the upper levels was executed in relative silence. Thorin asked a question every once in a while, but anything Bilbo asked was usually met with single word answers. It would have made him grin wryly if Thorin was anyone but the prince and his skin didn’t thrum with forbidden magic.

They set a picnic out at the top bridge and Bilbo took a seat first. Thorin hesitated a moment before sitting stiffly at his side. He tugged the top of the wicker basket and rooted around inside for a few moments while Bilbo watched. He still felt confused about why he was lunching with the prince.

The meal was good (not nearly enough by hobbit standards, of course) and Thorin kept a quiet conversation throughout it. He was more subdued than he usually was during their snacks together. He kept staring down at the city spreading beneath them with an almost brooding stare.

It was quite the view. Even Bilbo, who was not  overly fond of anything high, enjoyed it. You could see almost every bridge that spread across the kingdom and all the dwarves going to and fro. They continued with their days, unaware or uncaring that they were being observed. No one else was on the uppermost level, and it showed no sign of having continued construction any time soon.

“Why was this level never finished?” Bilbo asked mildly after his second bite of mincemeat. Thorin turned his head slightly so he was nearly looking at Bilbo. His countenance darkened slightly and he put his own pie aside.

Bilbo felt horribly guilty and he wasn’t sure why.

“This level used to belong to a powerful ally. We intended to expand it to make room for his fellow companions.” Thorin returned his gaze to the city spread beneath them. Bilbo saw his shoulders tense and felt his own stomach turn at the sight.

“He is an ally no longer?” Thorin shook his head.

“He betrayed my father, mother, and kin. We banished all his kind from the kingdom and ordered construction halted. I started to come here to peer over the city as a dwarfling. It was a position of power that I enjoyed.”

Oh. Bilbo had a suspicion that whoever that ally had been, he was the reason magic was banned.

It was weird to be sitting on what had been that person’s property. He half wanted to deface it in someway to show his discontent with that individual.   

Thorin pulled a pipe out of his pocket and lit it slowly. Bilbo did the same with slow, measured movements while Thorin reclined backwards to look up at the unfinished ceiling. Bilbo joined him and let his thoughts flow unhindered.

He didn’t understand why Thorin had taken him away from his work station to what was clearly a personal spot so that they could eat. It didn’t make sense.

Thorin’s free hand brushed against his and Bilbo unthinkingly turned his hand so that it was palm up. The dwarf gingerly grasped his hand and Bilbo coughed on his pipeweed.

He sat up abruptly, the pipe falling from his hand to the stone with a dull clatter. His heart pounded in his chest and his body felt strangely fluttery. He would need to perform some enchantments tonight to relieve himself of the excess magic his adrenaline had brought on today.

“This,” he blurted out with a hitch as his hand tightened around Thorin’s in shock, “is a _date_!”

Thorin’s head turned towards him, and a small, lazy smile lifted his lip. “Indeed it is, Master Baggins.”


	5. Chapter 5

Indeed. It is. Master. Baggins.

Thorin Oakenshield, the crowned prince and future king of Erebor had taken him out on a date. And he was holding Bilbo’s hand, and he was still smiling.

His eyes crinkled around the corners when he smiled, and his face went soft. He looked younger. It was a delightful thing to behold, and Bilbo found himself wanting to see a full smile. He had a feeling it would be breathtaking.

In hindsight, it was fairly obvious that the dwarf had been trying to date him for several days now. It just hadn’t occurred to him to even think of such a thing as a possibility.

Whatever would a King-to-be want to go out with Bilbo for? He was a hobbit, which most races regarded as slow and simple. He was a male, and wouldn’t be able to produce an heir if they ever got serious. He was not rich, and had no nobility in Erebor. He had several titles in the Shire, but his kin did not even like him.

Not that Bilbo thought himself unattractive. He wasn’t ugly (though he wasn’t a great beauty by hobbit standards) and he didn’t smell. He was fairly well learned and kind but- He was just… Bilbo. An ordinary hobbit.

He simply had nothing of value. Nothing to attract the royal dwarf. He was good for a laugh, and a decent sewer but that didn’t make him great date material.

“Why?” He blurted, still floundering horribly. His stomach clenched and his mouth popped open in shock at his own gall. That was not what he’d meant to say. Thorin’s smile disappeared and his eyes went carefully blank, almost as though a curtain had been lowered.

Great. Thorin clearly thought he was asking why _he_ should want to date _Thorin_. Of all the obtuse things.

“I-” he spluttered. Thorin made to remove his hand but Bilbo held on. He could feel pressure building in his chest and he prayed that his eyes didn’t start changing colors from the bubbling magic. “I mean, why me?”

“And why not you, Master Baggins?” Thorin turned his head to look back at the city stiffly. He radiated discomfort and Bilbo felt like a heel. An inarticulate, thick-headed, heel.

“I-well-I’m a commoner.” It sounded lame in his own ears. “Won’t someone disapprove?”

Thorin looked back at Bilbo and the dark scowl lessened. His eyes were still carefully guarded but it was progress in the right direction at least. “My sister has married a miner from Ered Luin, my brother is courting a female from the lower levels. She has no title to speak of. My father does not care what station the person we choose to marry is in. The line of Durin is carried through us, our spouses do not need to be of the line as well. It is not needed to rule Erebor.” His eyes returned to the stone at their feet. “You know of how our people, dwarves, love. We do not use political marriages unless there is no other alternative for peace.”

“Why-what about-you-me?” None of it really articulated what he was thinking, or the fear that was bubbling under his veins.

He had interested one of the highest people in Erebor. By the Green Lady-he wasn’t supposed to attract attention. _He had magic._ He could die for that. He had thought he was being risky with a simple friendship. He’d just enjoyed Thorin’s company and thought he would risk it.

Thorin’s hand caught his chin and turned him to look at the dwarf’s piercing blue eyes. His breath hitched and the panic in his chest seemed to freeze with indecision. “Hobbit, I assure you this is not a jest. My interest is genuine. You are exceptional in many ways, and I greatly enjoy your companionship. Will you consider me?”

“Yes, of course,” Bilbo waved his hand through the air. Thorin was a prince, that would be enough to consider him on. He was also a kind ruler (Bilbo had heard nothing but admiration from his fellow workers for the prince) and very honorable. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think Thorin attractive.

There was just the little matter of magic.

“I’m just worried about the repercussions. I have no problem with _you_. I’m flattered if anything.” The soft smile reappeared on Thorin’s lips and the blue eyes were once again warm.He hadn’t moved his hand from Bilbo’s chin. He had large, calloused fingers.

“Very well.” Thorin released him and turned back to look at the city. He took his pipe back up and drew a long puff from it. Bilbo sat still and tried to make his mind compute everything that had just happened.

Dori would faint when he learned about this.

Thorin was sitting extremely stiffly, and not blowing out the smoke he had just inhaled. Bilbo considered the dwarf for a long minute. He inhaled, pushed all the worries in his mind away and exhaled. He forced his shoulders to relax and tentatively stretched his hand out towards Thorin’s. He rested it on top of the dwarf’s hand and stared at the bridges edge.

Thorin turned his hand up and twined their fingers together. He blew out a ring of smoke and the corner of his mouth tilted up slightly.

This was going to happen.

-[]-[]-[]-

Bilbo walked towards his house a little numbly. He was barely aware of where his feet were going and was mostly walking from memory.

There was a guard following him to the house. The dwarf had been trailing him ever since he’d left Thorin’s side. He would have to ask if that was going to be a permanent thing. He couldn’t have a guard following him all day. He might slip up.

The door was unlocked. Bilbo slipped inside and immediately brought the bar down behind himself. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes as the pressure under his skin reached a fever pitch.

“Are we the only ones here?” His voice was hoarse in the extremely quiet air.

“Yes!” Came Ori’s response. Bilbo slipped down the door until he was sitting on his rump and stretched out his feet. He tilted his head back and let go of every restraint he was maintaining. The power rushed up his spine, through his limbs, and then leaked out of his skin from every pore. Magic poured out of him and onto the floor with golden light. His skin started to glow as magic escaped his body to twine into the air. His eyes would be a bright green now.

“Bad day then?” Dori’s quiet voice washed over him as a cup of tea was pressed into his  glowing hand.

“Te-tense.” He murmured. He was growing warm as the tendrils of magic broke free. They trailed from him in vibrant strands that went towards the two dwarves in front of him. One wound it’s way around Ori’s leg while the other climbed up to Dori’s hand.

The tea was chamomile. The warm scent was wonderfully calming and made Bilbo think of the comforts of a warm hearth and family.

“He was followed by a guard since luncheon.” Nori came in from the kitchen with a scowl. Three tendrils of golden magic went towards him. He kicked them away in irritation. “What happened with the Prince after I left?”

“The Prince?” Dori and Ori squeaked together. Dori swayed as color left his face. BIlbo nodded his head. The entire entryway was glowing from the releasing magic. Nori slipped the curtains closed as more flowed into the air. He didn’t feel so pressured anymore. It was a wonderful relief to just let his magic flow unhindered.

“Yes. The Prince. His royal highness, Thorin Oakenshield. The heir Apparent and hero of Azanulbizar.” Bilbo blinked and sank lower against the door. “And he had lunch with me.”

“He’s been hanging around you every day. Why didn’t you mention that?” Nori huffed. He crossed his arms as more magic flowed towards him.

“You’ve been around the prince?” Dori’s voice rose an octave and a vein began to pound in his head. Ori and Nori both eyed it warily. Bilbo was too tired to give it much worry.

"And I was fairly certain he was going to order my execution today because I was  _talking_ to Bilbo." Nori added. Dori's gaze shot to him before returning to Bilbo. His brow furrowed in alarm. Ori moved closer to Bilbo and leaned against the door as he examined him.

“Yes. We’ve apparently been dating for a week. Pity that no one bothered to inform me of that fact until today.” He was so blind not to have seen it.

“You’re what?!” Dori reached a hitherto unheard pitch. Ori winced before crouching at Bilbo’s side.

“The Prince’s interest was obvious since the beginning. He never pretended anything differently.” He offered Bilbo a hand. He considered it for a moment before taking it and allowing the dwarf to hall him up. He’d been lazy and dramatic enough.

“Yes. I’m dating the prince. It will probably result in an actual courtship because he got quite irritated when he thought I didn’t want to date. Which was ridiculous.”

“You want to date him?” Nori’s face made a complicated furrow. He stepped aside as Ori led him to the kitchen. There was some sort of stew cooking that smelled delicious. That might have just been because Bilbo was ravenous. Performing magic always left him hungry.

The way Nori asked the question irritated Bilbo. He spoke before he even thought about it. “Of course! He’s brilliant, considerate, a natural leader, and very handsome. The problem is his position.”

“Which anyone else would consider a bonus.” Nori noted in a wry tone as Ori pulled a chair out for Bilbo to sit in.

“But he’ll see your magic!” Bilbo sat down in the chair and tried not to sigh again. His skin was still glowing with leaking magic, but he didn’t feel like he was about to explode. A bowl of soup was floating towards him along with a spoon. Ori sat beside him and bit his lip. His hair was coming loose from his braids and there was a smear of ink on his cheek.

“That’s why it was a tense day.”

“So you spent the day with the prince, and his guards, and you’re now dating.” Nori shook his head and reclined against the wall.

Dori approached the table with two bowls of soup which he passed to his brothers. “Magic aside, do you actually want to date him?”

“I-” his eyes snapped open and he sat up properly. He hadn’t really thought about it. He’d mostly been alternating between shock and terror all day. He’d really only know the dwarf for a week. He liked what he knew about him, and Thorin was very attractive. Which might have been shallow but Bilbo was not blind. He also loved the dwarf’s voice, and the shy, almost uncertain way he fumbled with small talk.

“Yes. I guess I would.”

“Then let’s figure out a way for the magic.” Dori poured another bowl full of soup and Bilbo felt his mouth pop open.  “We can have you perform a few complex spells in the morning. That will help you not have to worry too much about it building up like today.”

Bilbo took his spoon up and scooped up a bit of the soup. He was going to date Thorin.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin shut the door to his chambers and slid the bar over the door. He unfastened the clasp that held his cloak and unwrapped it from his shoulders.

“You needn’t be quiet, Dwalin. I know you are in here.” The cloak was hung by the door. He set his shoes under them and headed towards the inner chamber. He could hear someone shuffling around inside them.

“It’s hard not to be quiet in here. It’s stiller than a tomb.” Dwalin grumbled from his place in front of the fire. He had a small blaze going and was putting another log on top of it.

“Well, dinner has been served. Your chewing should clear that problem up.” He gazed over the meal. It was a cut off steak and bread.

Dwalin ignored his comment and put the tools for tending to the fire away while Thorin sat down. He took a chair by the prince’s side and stretched out. "Right, to business. The elves have offered no complaint as of yet, and we've only had one brawl break out in regards to them."

"Only one? Thank Mahal." Thorin dropped his napkin to his lap and ignored Dwalin's snort of amusement at what he had always considered an overly polite gesture.

"Your father has issued that we do another magic sweep sometime tomorrow." That wasn't surprising. The number of magical incursions in the last month had increased by nearly eighty percent. His father was nothing if not paranoid. "That's all that really happened today. Of interest anyway." They ate silently for a moment with the crackling of the fire  and Dwalin's chewing as the only sound. Then the dwarf smirked. “So,” he drawled with a mouth full of bread, “the hobbit.”

“Bilbo.” Thorin nodded his head and took a swig of mead. Dwalin was smirking far too much.  He’d cornered Thorin after their initial visit to the market and asked why the hobbit had caught his eyes. He’d been insufferable ever since. Though he had taken to the three dwarf brothers quite well.

“I noticed that he joined you for lunch this afternoon. For nearly an hour and a half.” Thorin sliced a portion of meat with careful strokes.

“He did indeed. The time was quite… enlightening.”

Dwalin lifted his own mug with a larger smirk. This was a usual practice between them. They spent most of their free evenings dining together. Usually with Frerin and Balin as well. Dis spent her evenings with her husband. It was a time Thorin always looked forward to. There weren’t many times during the day that he could really unwind. The evenings had usually been his only reprieve from the planned properness of court life.

Lunch today had been delightful. He’d been worried for a moment (though he would never have admitted to it. An heir of Durin could not be worried over something as ‘trivial’ as someone wishing to date them.) That BIlbo had not been interested in pursuing a romantic relationship. He had never been so bold as to actually take someone on a date. He was always the one that was pursued.

The hobbit had taken his hand and he’d been completely uncertain what to do with the strange tingling it had invoked in his chest. The flutters seemed a constant state with the hobbit. They’d felt like they had wanted to break free at that moment.

“Enlightening. Meaning you did nothing but talk.” Dwalin shook his head causing the tooth dangling from his ear to slap against his hair. Thorin made no response to the jibe. He was quite fine with taking it slow. He saw no purpose in rushing things. Relationships were forged like anything else. Slowly, else they broke too easily. Only time, trust, and commitment, ever created bonds of worth.

He wanted nothing less than what his parents had enjoyed. His mother had meant everything to his father, and neither had hesitated to sacrifice themselves for the other. Their courtship had lasted several years. As far as Thorin was aware, neither of them had ever dated more than three people before joining together.

No. He didn’t mind that they had only held hands today.

“We had much to discuss. How go the brothers Ri? Nori was visiting Bilbo when I went to meet him.”

“The spymaster is quite adept at sneaking away. He’s already finding his way to chatter.” Dwalin took the topic for the change of conversation it was. Thorin had no doubt he would be teased more later. Now he just wanted to enjoy the fact that he was dating the golden - haired hobbit. It was a secret that no one else needed to know. It seemed more precious knowing that Bilbo was the only other one aware of his intentions.

“Probably thanks to his prior dealings.” Dwalin huffed and nodded his head.

“The scribe is also skilled. Nain claims that he hasn’t met one with so much promise in a long while. Dis has demanded most of Dori’s skills. He has hardly had a chance to bake for anyone else.

“Do you have any idea why they -”

“Live with a hobbit?” Thorin nodded his head and Dwalin frowned. He stabbed his steak a bit more harshly than needed. “No, and none of their neighbors do either. The four are quite well liked. They’re kind and don’t cause much trouble-but they are described as ‘odd.’”

“In what way?” Dwalin’s face wrinkled in distaste and Thorin’s stomach tightened. He didn’t put his fork down as he didn’t want to give so obvious a tell to Dwalin. He didn’t want anything to be wrong with Bilbo.

“That’s the strange bit. No one could specify why they thought them odd.” He swallowed his food and set his mug aside. “I don’t think it’s anything too be worried about. We’ll simply keep alert. Bilbo’s guard didn’t report anything strange after all.

“You gave him a guard?”

Dwalin’s eyes softened in a smile that didn’t move his lips. “It seemed prudent. He’s enjoyed your attention of late. Others will notice. The kingdom has seen an increase in magic in the last months and I would not see danger in any area.”

The tight worry in Thorin’s chest loosened as he chewed his dinner. Dwalin would not have given Bilbo a guard if he did not like him, and if he was truly suspicious.

It seemed he would truly be able to pursue the hobbit. 


	6. Chapter 6

The first weeks of dating Bilbo were full of learning experiences. There was a lot about the hobbit Thorin had not known.

Bilbo was comfortable around the brothers Ri. He actively sought out their companionship during the day and could be found walking home with at least one of them nearly every night. He tended to the others with Dori, teased Nori, and spoke with Ori as an equal.

He also _loved_ riddles. Ori and him could be heard trading them at any time during the day. Ori would sneak down to the sewing rooms and perch on a table to write while Bilbo sewed. They would talk for hours and trade innumerable riddles. Thorin was horrible with riddles. He always over thought them.

He liked to watch them together. Bilbo had a deep bond with all the brothers, but there was something special about his friendship with the youngest. A certain understanding between them that made Thorin deeply curious.

One time he had lounged in the doorway to observe them. Ori had dipped the tip of his quill into a pot of green ink and glanced at Bilbo with a playful grin. “How about this one, Mister - I’m- the- clever- riddle- master: An eye in a blue face saw an eye in a green face. 'That eye is like to this eye' Said the first eye, 'But in low place Not in high place.'”

Bilbo had grinned and took his scissors up. He’d absently nibbled on his lip while he cut the fabric and thought. He would get a little wrinkle between his eyebrows any time he really thought. Thorin was always presented with the urge to press a kiss to it. He wanted to smooth it out with his lips and was forever curious what the skin would feel like beneath his lips.

“The sun shining on daisies growing in a field.” Bilbo belted a few moments later. Ori then laughed and nodded his head before dipping the quill in the ink once more.

“Alright! Lucky guess. You’re turn.”

“Voiceless it cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters.” The hobbit had over dramatized each word in a low, raspy voice that had made Ori’s eyes widen. He held still until Bilbo finished and then resumed cutting out his fabric.

“Charming.” Bilbo had laughed at the young dwarf and Thorin had found himself crossing the room to embrace the bright hobbit.

Bilbo was also a gifted linguist. He’d come across the halfling speaking in the litling tongue of elves more than once.

Today he was speaking to Ori. The dwarf responded to whatever was said in the same tongue and waved his hands through the air in broad expressions. His beads jingled with the movements and Thorin noticed that his hands were stained with at least three different colors of ink.

Bilbo was standing in front of him with his back to Thorin. His own hair still bore the same two braids they had since he’d known him. One was the family Ri’s braid, and the other he didn’t know. His fingers itched to weave his own braid into the golden curls.

The hobbit was listening attentively with his head tilted to the side. He would nod his head every moment or so. Ori looked worried about whatever he was saying. “Avon gwerianneg nin amarth faeg.” (I won’t betray you to the evil fate.) He insisted.

Bilbo sighed audibly. “Ori, mellon nin, iston.” (Ori, my friend, I know.)

“Bilbo! Faeg tol-” (Bilbo! The evil comin-)

Suddenly Ori, realizing that Thorin was standing just a few feet away, stopped. The elvish trailed off in an abrupt jolt and he plastered on the fakest smile Thorin had ever seen. The young dwarf’s eyes shot to Bilbo’s, widened, and then shot back to Thorin. The fake smile grew all the larger and he repeated the eye movement three times before Bilbo finally turned his head, an embarrassed smile on his own lips.

Thorin’s gut twisted. He felt as though he was intruding on something private. What had he just come in on? What did the dwarf need to speak to Bilbo in private for?

Blast it all, why were they so close? Why was Bilbo wearing the braid of their family? He didn’t want to compete for the halflings affections. Just thinking about having to do so made his chest burn.

“My prince!” Bilbo blurted with a step forward. He was wearing a blue tunic that went lovely with his blue eyes-

Which were nearly green. Thorin hesitated in his walk and studied the smiling face. He half imagined the changing eyes were an illusion of his own mind. That he was going mad in imagining that they actually changed between blue and green.

He smiled and stepped towards the hobbit with what he hoped was a welcoming expression. He was suspicious about what had occurred before he approached. It made him want drag Bilbo away and question him.

He was quite fond of the hobbit. He was strongly considering opening an official courtship with him. One that would probably lead to an eventual marriage. Declaring the courtship would officially recognize Bilbo in the kingdom, and give Thorin the right to bring him anywhere he wished. He would be presented before the court and introduced to his father.

It would mean very little privacy for the hobbit. He had been shocked when he discovered that Thorin simply wanted to date him. He had no idea how Bilbo would react when he learned that Thorin wanted to court him.

Even though it had been a month since they’d started dating. (Well, since Bilbo realized they were dating.)

“Mizim,” (jewel) he murmured and took the hobbit’s warm hand in his own. Bilbo was always remarkably warm.

“Thorin! I didn’t think I’d get to see you before the evening.” He laced their fingers together in an easy way with a bright smile that almost made Thorin forget about the previous conversation.

“I finished with court early.” He offered Ori a genial head nod. The scribe blushed and took a tiny step back.

“I-I have to get back to my duties. I’ll see you later, Bilbo?” Bilbo nodded his head and moved nearer to Thorin. They watched the dwarf walk out of the room with his writing pack bouncing at his side.

“So,” Thorin said, breaking the silence. “You speak Sindarin?”

“Yes.” Bilbo pulled Thorin nearer and stood up on his tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He was extremely patient and always did things the dwarvish way. Thorin knew that hobbits considered the idea of not kissing properly until courting to be odd. Halflings were far freer with their affections. He hadn’t pushed Thorin in the least though and seemed content with cheek and forehead kisses, and cuddles.

Thorin enjoyed them of course. Not that he would ever admit to cuddling, much less enjoying such a thing.

“I know three complete languages. I also know  several khuzdul curses, ‘yes’ as well as ‘no.’ That’s all of that language. I have never asked for more of it and they don’t share. I would never ask them to betray their race in that manner.” Bilbo dismissed with a shrug. “If ever something needed sharing in secret with the three of us I use Quenya and talk directly to Ori. He’ll translate to the others.” He shrugged again with a self-deprecating smile. “It’s less likely to be understood than Sindarin. Fewer can speak it.”

“You are brilliant. I find more reasons to give you that title each day.” Bilbo flushed a pleasant pink and averted his eyes.

“I just had too much time on my hand as a youth.” He squeezed Thorin’s hand and stepped to the dwarf’s side. “I believe you were going to escort me to the garden?”

“If you are not opposed to the idea.”

“I find it quite lovely. Besides, it will be nice to spend a while with you before you have to tend that court thing.” They started down the hall together and Thorin found his mental timer starting. He had so little free time to spend with others.

And he wished to spend more of it with Bilbo. He could attend most of his duties with Dwalin, Balin, Frerin, and Dis, and they were his closest friends. Bilbo was not permitted to attend court functions at present though. He held no real station.

Only the one Thorin courted would be allowed to attend with him. He would be lying if he said he was not considering asking Bilbo to properly court for that reason.

Being around the hobbit simply felt right. It was a bright, light feeling that welled up in his stomach and made him feel warm in a way that he could never fully define. Talking with Bilbo was easy and enjoyable. Bilbo’s smile was something he always wanted to see, and he could feast on the hobbit’s laugh.

He was ready to pursue more.

“Perhaps you could wait for me after the ‘thing?’” Bilbo’s grin slipped for a moment before it was plastered back on.

“I’m afraid I can’t. More relatives are coming over this evening. It’s the height of rudeness to hobbits for the host to not be present at any point.”

“Of course.” Thorin watched as Bilbo looked back at where they were going. His throat bobbed with a swallow and the curved tips of his ears turned slightly pink. He knew beyond a doubt that Bilbo was hiding something from him. There were undiscussed secrets between them.

The question was if that was enough to stop a courtship from starting.

-[]-[]-[]-

Ori was not the most outgoing of dwarves. He was quiet, well mannered, and fairly unassuming. He easily passed notice with his simple hair cut and plain clothes.

He was often ignored in other words.

He didn’t mind his anonymity. It was simply part of being a booklover and writer. He preferred the sound of a quill scratching on paper than the loud brawls of pubs. He was more comfortable in libraries than in conversations.

It might have had a bit to do with the brothers he had grown up with. Neither allowed him much freedom. Dori was scared he’d be harmed and Nori was scared he’d be drawn down the same path he had traveled. They were fiercely protective which meant that he had few friends and few experiences away from them.

Which made working on his own quite odd. It was a dream, being a scribe. One he had never thought would actually come to pass. None of the scribes knew who he was. There was no name to live up to, or suspicion cast upon him because of Nori’s previous business.

He was whatever he made himself.

He was fairly certain he had found Varda in Middle Earth with the scribes guild. It was a large hall full of books, tables for writing, papers, and inks in every color. The entire room smelled of learning and was always well lit. The sound of scratching quills was a symphony of the best sort. The conversation was always well learned and rarely trivial.

The library was the place he was most often at. He was a scribe of the lowest rank, as he was just starting. He was often tasked with the job of fetching information for whatever projects the scribes might be working on.

He loved the library normally. Right now, he was distinctly uncomfortable. There were two elves in the room with him, and a few dwarves that were milling about in the back area. He had several books in his arms and he didn’t even know what their titles were.

_“The magic will not be suspected. We have found a full-proof way. I am certain.”_

The sindarin was softly spoken but it might as well have been a shout for how much it captured Ori’s attention. He couldn’t move. He just stood staring at the books in front of him with eyes that refused to do anything but open wide in shock.

_“Are you certain something so simple will trigger the  curse? If you truly have a certain plan should we not aim larger?”_

He would draw suspicion if he remained still. He had to move. He had to do something.

“Tiradil, we will not push our luck. We shall meet again tonight. Bring the charm.”

Ori shoved his books back on the shelf and carefully turned around. He purposefully strode towards the end of the aisle and kept his eyes forward. His hands trembled in his pockets and he was certain his heart was about to beat its way out of his chest. He could hear the elves behind him and they were making it hard to keep walking.

He exited the library and took an immediate left. He went down the hall and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of the stationed guard. He swallowed thickly and locked eyes on the tall dwarf.

“Take me to Dwalin Fundinson, please.”

-[]-[]-[]-

“What was the name?” Dwalin asked for what was probably the third time. The tiny dwarf in front of him, Ori, frowned and wriggled the fingers of his right hand against the notebook in his lap.

“I only heard one, sir.” His voice was quiet but it was far more certain than it had been when the guard had taken him to Dwalin.

Bilbo had been wise to appoint him as a scribe.

The dwarf continued to scritch away at his paper. It was starting to irritate Dwalin. He was used to commanding the full attention of others. Ori was a brilliant dwarf, there was no doubt of that, but that did not mean he could not give Dwalin the simple courtesy of looking in his eyes. Simply because Dwalin was not very well learned did not put him beneath the dwarf.

“What were they wearing?” Nori asked. He had insisted on being in the meeting. He had been with Dwalin when the young dwarf had begged an audience with Dwalin. He had hardly been able to deny him. He well knew the loyalty of brothers.

“Violet robes.” Ori glanced up for the briefest moment to meet his brother’s gaze. “They were not in the style of any of the three kingdoms. They were certainly not with the Mirkwood Prince’s guard.” His eyes shifted to Dwalin and the tip of his ears turned red beneath their cuffs before he looked back at his paper. The scritching noise resumed.

“Where do you think they will meet, laddie?”

“I had thought the library.” He swallowed thickly and lowered his notebook to rest on his knees. He set the quill aside and brought his hand to the top of the page he had been scribbling on. He tore it, and the one in front of it, off in one quick tug.

“I-I don’t know if this will help, but it’s the best I can do. I only got a quick look.”

He passed the cream-colored sheets to Dwalin and met his eyes. The honey colored eyes didn’t waver as Dwalin took the sheets. He lowered his own gaze and took in two sketches.

They were the elves Ori had seen. They were masterfully rendered with the ink, clear enough that Dwalin could half believe they could be touched through the paper. He had even captured the styles of their braids.

“They were both blond with pale grey eyes. Their accents were thick but not the typical kind. They spoke in Quenya instead of Sindarin.”

“Nain,” He called one of the dwarf guards at the back of the chamber forward and passed him. the images. “See that this is passed to all the guards. These are the elves we are searching for.” He looked back at Ori who met his gaze steadily, though his ears were still pink. “You’ve done well, young one.”

The dwarf beamed.


	7. Chapter 7

Life in the royal court was not the same as life outside the royal court. All the rules were different, and there were _always_ a pair of eyes on you. Even when he was in the tailor shop with the other sewing dwarves, he felt them watching.

He hadn’t been watched so closely since he’d moved in with the brothers Ri.

There were always guards present, and they had little else to do but watch. He couldn’t imagine how dull his life probably looked to them. They were stiff and extremely formal the first few times he tried to breach the silence and start a conversation. He finally learned their names and the dwarves loosened. The ginger guard, who was named Glóin, _loved_ talking about his family. He had a lovely wife and a dwarf lad that was in his sixties.

The other dwarf had dark hair mixed with grey, and more noticeably, an axe embedded in his head. He couldn’t speak common but Bilbo was able to understand most of what he said by hand movements. Glóin would translate anything else.

Thorin stopped by every day with some sort of meal. He had apparently learned the importance Hobbit’s placed on sharing meals.

Having Nori was a lifesaver. The dwarf was always in the know, and could warn Bilbo of anything about to occur. He’d already slipped Bilbo out of the kingdom during two different magic sweeps. He performed a complicated spell every morning, and it kept him fairly drained for several hours. The intense pressure of magic would only come if he got especially scared.

He was a little shocked when he realized he’d been dating Thorin a month. A month that had changed something in Bilbo’s mind. He wasn’t just dating Thorin, he was _dating_ Thorin. He was looking forward to seeing the dwarf and thinking about him even when he wasn’t present. He enjoyed being in the dwarf’s company and laughed more freely with him.

He didn’t feel the bubbling magic as much. It was more tame than it had previously been.

“You are not busy this evening.” Bilbo set the last dress on the model and took up a handful of pins to hold while he fastened it properly to the model. He smiled, careful not to stick himself with a pin, and nodded his head. Thorin had a way of asking questions that made it sound far more like an order than an actual inquiry.

“I was only planning on curling up with a book. Nori and Ori are busy with something, and Dori has tea with a friend.”

“Nori and Ori will be assisting Dwalin with a matter of magic.” Bilbo stuck his finger with a pin. Thankfully he could disguise the way his entire body jolted at that news as pain from the stab.

Thorin’s hand grasped his and tugged it away from the model. “Mizim,” he murmured with a frown as he turned the hand over. He ran his fingers over Bilbo’s digits, checking for any blood. It had only been a little prick, hardly even feelable after the fact.

Still, the gentle concern warmed Bilbo.

He put the pins aside and smiled. “Why Ori? How did he get pulled in?”

“He uncovered the plot.” Thorin, satisfied that the hand was not damaged, brought it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the skin. Bilbo’s thought tapered off at the feel of the dwarf’s short beard against his fingers. It was all he could do not to kiss the lips that were so gentle.

“Why do you keep your beard short?” He asked breathlessly as Thorin straightened and released his hand. He brought it to the dwarf’s jaw and let his fingers comb through the surprisingly soft hair.

“To honor the memory of my mother and her guard, Fundin.”

“Dwalin’s father?”

“Yes.” Thorin’s pale eyes grew sorrowful and Bilbo stepped closer. He clasped the dwarf’s other hand with his own and kept his fingers on his chin. “My family was betrayed by one they had named ally. He burned my mother after he slayed Fundin. Frerin, Dís and I all wear our beards in this manner to honor what she went through.”

“She had to be quite incredible to have you three.”

“I find it harder to remember her with every passing day. I was but five summers when she was taken from us.”

“I never knew either of my parents. They both died when I was just an infant. I can’t imagine if they had been murdered though.”

“It is a pain that never truly leaves. I am sorry that you too must bear the pain of such loss.” Thorin lifted his free hand to grasp the back of Bilbo’s neck. His hand was nearly wide enough to encompass the entire back of his head. He brought their foreheads together and Bilbo watched his eyes slip closed. This was his chance to ask about the magic restraints. There wouldn’t really be a better time.

“Is that the reason magic is forbidden in the kingdom?”

Thorin’s head nodded. He unlaced their fingers and placed his hand on Bilbo’s hip, drawing him closer. If he wasn’t careful Bilbo was going to break the whole ‘dwarves- don’t- do- pre- courtship - intimacy’ thing. “A wizard betrayed us and placed a curse on our family. It stated that magic would bring our ruin. My father has banished it from the kingdom to keep my siblings and I safe.”

“He wasn’t more specific than that? That was horribly cruel.”

“He was more specific, Mizim. He made it quite clear that I would be the one that magic used to bring about the ruin of our house.”

“That’s horrible! You were only five! What on earth could have made him hate your family so much? You are kind rulers. You take care of your people and are fair in all trades. I’ve seen kingdoms that have earned hate far more than yours ever could.”

Thorin’s eyes slipped open again and the startlingly blue intensity of them made Bilbo’s heart flutter. A sad smile tipped up the corner of his lip. “It was not because of our rule. We were in possession of a singularly unique stone. The likes of which has never, and will never again be found. The Arkenstone. He wished it for himself. My father feared the power he might wield through it and denied it to him.”

“I’m sorry. You probably shouldn’t be telling me any of that.”

“I am aware of hobbit curiosity, Bilbo. The betrayal is not a secret. The curse is something all members of the court know of.” His blue eyes were too bright for Bilbo to look at anything else. He was being trusted, and it was quite a heady sensation. In moments like this it was easy to forget the rest of the world. Easy to forget that he was not being honest with Thorin. He almost always forgot about his magic until he was no longer near Thorin.

“Well, that seems dangerous. What if someone wants to use it against you?”

“They dare not. The curse also promised the burning of Erebor. None would risk it.” The dwarf sighed heavily and let go of Bilbo. He stepped back and looked at him with large solemn eyes. “I have to tend to my duties. I will come for you this evening. Dís’ servant Freya will be by to make certain you are appropriately attired. I intend to show you off tonight.” He scooped up Bilbo’s hand and pressed a kiss to it while he held the hobbit’s gaze.

“Right.” Bilbo blurted, his ears heating up. Thorin grinned wolfishly and took a step back. He winked and then slipped away.

Bilbo stood still for a moment, feeling warm and happy. He didn’t know what Thorin wanted to do for the evening but he was game for anything.

He turned to finish pinning up the dress when a horrible tingling started down his spine. Thorin was cursed to be destroyed by magic. He would have been cursed over a hundred and forty years ago.

What if Bilbo was the one that was going to bring about his destruction? What if the curse intended to use him to harm the dwarf?

He clutched the table and tried to stop the world from swaying around him.

-[]-[]-[]-

“You are nearly vibrating, brother.” Frerin stated as they turned the last hall to the sewing hall. The other tailors had left already but Thorin could see Bilbo sitting on the far table with his legs drawn up. He had his head resting against his knees. “What is happening with you and the hobbit?”

“Why do you assume it is Bilbo?”

‘Because we’re in the sewing guild?” The dwarf stopped, his gold braids swaying. “Sweet Mahal!” He gasped. “You’re doing it, aren’t you? That’s why we’re all having dinner together!”

“Shh!” Bilbo’s head lifted up from his knees and Thorin plastered on a smile. “Bilbo,” he called in greeting. The hobbit’s eyes were wide and he slipped off the table. He was wearing black breeches with a blue tunic and silver weskit over it. He had silver beads in his hair and a silver cuff on his ear. He looked nervous

“Th-Thorin,” He accepted the hand that Thorin held out and smiled. His eyes darted to Frerin before returning to Thorin. “And Frerin.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” He tugged the hobbit to his side while keeping his other hand on Frerin’s elbow  to help guide him through the halls. Bilbo made polite conversation on the way to the dining hall, but Thorin had a nagging feeling that there was something on the halflings mind.

He took a seat at the table and sat Bilbo at his side. The hobbit swallowed and exhaled slowly. Did the hobbit suspect? Was that why he was nervous? He surely didn’t dislike the idea. He’d mentioned a courtship just that morning. Bilbo had smiled,  kissed his cheek, and affectionately tugged his braid. He’d then made a vague comment about Thorin being slow on the uptake.

He was seeing issue where there was none. This was Bilbo’s first dinner with his family. Nerves were bound to occur.

Dís pulled Bilbo into a conversation while they waited for Thraín to arrive and the meal to be served. He entered the hall after a few, long, minutes with a tired smile for his family. His eyes lighted over Bilbo and narrowed momentarily before returning to Thorin. The older dwarf raised his eyebrow and Thorin smiled in return.

Bilbo was stiff as a log at his side.

Thraín took his seat and servants rushed forward with plates of food.

“Sire,” Thorin started, breaking the rooms silence. A thrill of excitement rushed up his spine at the fact that he was finally able to do this. He’d waited years to find one whom he would wish to introduce to his father.

Thraín turned his gaze on Thorin and the tired smile grew a little larger. “Yes, my son?”

“May I present Master Bilbo Baggins to you.” Bilbo dipped his head in respect. Thorin’s eyes drifted to the red tips of his ears and his own smile broadened.

“It’s an honor, your Majesty.”

“Well met, Master Baggins.” Thraín turned his attention on Frerin as he began to tell their father about the day’s going-ons about Erebor. Dís spoke to her husband and Thorin looked at Bilbo. The hobbit was clutching his fork tightly and releasing a quiet breath. His shoulders relaxed from their stiff attention and a timid smile lifted his lips. He caught Thorin staring and the timid smile spread to a full, warm one.

“Please warn me next time I’m going to meet a family member?” He whispered before cutting a bite of meat. Thorin watched him work and lift the food to his mouth. His own stomach grumbled but he ignored it.

This was going to be a gutsy move, but it would prove to Bilbo that he was serious about pursuing a relationship.

He joined his father’s and brother’s conversation, pulling Bilbo in as well. His hobbit gave relevant responses (which pleased his father) and made Frerin laugh five different times. The second course was finished before Bilbo addressed the fact that Thorin hadn’t touched anything but his drink.

“Are you feeling okay, Thorin? Is it not to your liking?”

“The cooks make brisket to my liking.”

“Are you not hungry?”

He locked eyes with the hobbit and allowed his smile to turn a bit wolfish. “I assure you, Mizim, I am famished.”

“Then why haven’t you-” Bilbo’s voice broke off in an almost strangled squeak. His cheeks exploded in a bright red and his eyes grew as large as saucers. His fork clattered to the ground and he seemed to grow even redder.

Thorin passed his unused fork to the hobbit, his grin not wavering. “Careful, Mizim.”

“What is it?” Frerin asked, a frown tugging his lips down in confusion. Dís answered before Thorin could.

“Thorin hasn’t eaten. I think it means something to hobbits because it seems to have startled Bilbo.”

Frerin’s lips shot up in a grin so quickly that Thorin missed the actual movement. “Rascal.”

“Care to share, brother mine?”

“I’ll let Thorin.” Thraín was looking at all of them now with a mildly amused and perplexed air.

“It’s the way a hobbit suitor shows his interest in another hobbit.” Bilbo murmured, his voice soft and almost absent. As if he was hardly aware he was even speaking. “You sit at a meal with your interest and don’t eat. That shows you value the other more than your meal.”

“I wish to honor both our traditions, Bilbo. I have dated you for a month, and wish to open a true courtship with you. Will you accept this,” he pulled a single silver bead from his pocket and held it out in his palm, “bead and a braid from my hand as a sign of agreeing to a courtship?”

Bilbo gaped at the bead.  Thorin’s fork slipped from his fingers and fell against his plate with a loud clatter. He blinked, blushed and lifted his gaze to meet Thorin’s. He bit his bottom lip as a smile twitched the corners of his mouth and gave his head a single nod.

Thorin’s heart soured. He gripped the bead tightly for a moment and exhaled. He had not realized he’d even held his breath. He then set it on the table top and reached for Bilbo’s soft curls. He separated a section of hair and then split that into six strands to begin the courtship braid. He worked in silence with his family watching. Only when he clasped the bead at the end of the braid did the others resume a conversation, leaving Bilbo and Thorin to share a moment.

The hobbit turned back to look at him with wide eyes. They no longer looked very blue. “I-” he started before shaking his head. He took Thorin’s hand under the table and swallowed thickly. His expression was odd, Thorin wasn’t sure what to classify it as. “You-”

Bilbo’s very-much-green-eyes blinked and a fine tremor shot across his limbs. Thorin clutched his hand under the table. “Mizim? Are you frightened?”

Bilbo shot his free hand out to grab up his goblet. “Very.” He swallowed down his wine and managed a shaky smile while he squeezed Thorin’s hand in return. “you’re sure about this?”

“Yes. I am quite certain.” Bilbo brought his other hand over to Thorin’s cheek. He ran the tip of his finger along Thorin’s cheek bone before dropping it down to the braid that resided beside his left ear.

“When do I get to give you a braid?”

“Tomorrow morning. Do you have a bead?” Bilbo nodded his head. His smile looked less nervous.

“I have one. It’s not as nice as the one you gave-”

“That will not matter. I will treasure it even if it is wood.”

“So I just pop by your chambers tomorrow morning?”

“Yes. I will have to leave by eight, so you will need to arrive prior to that.” Bilbo’s smile turned saucy and Thorin found his throat running dry.

“Don’t worry, Sire. I’ll be there bright and early.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the relationship is feeling a little rushed. I need them to be courting for the actual plot of the story to really get going. I'll focus on their relationship a bit more in the next chapter though. Don't worry!


	8. Chapter 8

Ori could honestly say he was used to tense situations. He’d spent the last years of his life hiding a magic- doing- hobbit, which no one else could say, and he was always helping Nori avoid getting caught with his quick tongue. (Whether it was from the law or Dori.)

He knew how to talk his way out of trouble in the middle of a situation. Because there was one thing Ori Loíunson knew about himself. He was smart. He was horribly shy, not terribly gifted with a sword, a poor metal worker, and sounded more like drunk ox when he sang than a dwarf, but he was clever. His mind was what had gotten him through everything.

Of course that meant it also got him in his current situation.

“You know you don’t actually have to be here, Ori. I could-”

“You could stop talking right about now.” Ori snapped. He tightened his scarf around his neck and shot his older brother a glare. “You’re the one who doesn’t have to be here. I’m the one that knows what they look like. I’m also the scribe and the dwarf that hangs about the library regularly. I don’t know that you’ve ever even been in a library.”

“Hey! I came to one a year or so ago. I read as well.”

“What was her name?” Ori asked as he pushed himself off the wall. He was aware of why his brother was trying to rile him up. He was grateful for the distraction that it was just the same. He had no more time for distractions though. He could hear someone coming from the east passage. That was the room that only the scholars were permitted in. It was too late for any scholars to still be in the library which meant it was likely their culprits.

He hoped that Dwalin was indeed watching them as he had promised.

He had no doubt that the lead guard would be able to take care of the elves. He just wasn’t sure why they’d been put in the library. He was supposed to act like he was working, and Nori had refused to leave him alone. (Ori was fairly certain he simply didn’t want to risk Dori possibly finding out that he’d left Ori alone with potential conspirators.)

“Actually it was a painting. Fetched a lovely coin too.”

“You,” he said slowly as he made his way towards the nearest bookshelf, Nori trailing faithfully behind him, “are incorrigible.”

“You and your large words. Trouble would have worked just fine.”

“You are an inveterate mischief maker.” He continued, ignoring Nori. He reached the bookshelf and went to it’s end. He could clearly see the inner room where the footsteps were headed towards. He brought his hand to the books in front of him and trailed his fingers along the spine. They were leather bound and embossed with gold.

“I don’t even know what that means. You sound like a -”

“Make yourself useful.” He pulled a short, green, volume off the shelf and deposited it in Nori’s unsuspecting arm. If they were supposed to look like they were browsing then they would need books.

“What is this?”

“The complete works of Neruda.” He peered around the corner again just in time to see two tall, cloaked figures make their way into the smaller chamber.

“Who?”

“A brilliant poet. Are you certain we’re related?” He made a motion with his hand in the familiar signs of iglishmek. They’re here. In the back room. Follow me. Nori signed his understanding and they set out around the aisle. “Now if I can just have your patience for a moment longer I promise that we-” he nearly stuttered to a halt as he caught a glimpse of one elf pulling a long, curved, sword from his cloak and putting it on the table. It flashed and sparkled in the faint light of the inner chamber.

His heart gave a very hard thump in his chest and he felt a little dizzy. “Zagar!” (Sword!) He yelped, his voice going up an octave and almost breaking on the last letter. “Zigri!” (Magic!)

A loud clatter sounded somewhere behind him and five guards emerged from the shadows, Dwalin at the lead. Both the elves head snapped to look at what was happening, and then they moved. Ori had never seen two beings (so large!) move so quickly. They shot out of the room, with their weapons drawn, towards Ori and Nori almost in the time it took him to blink.

Nori shouted and tried to shove Ori aside as the elf nearest them swung his weapon. Ori stood his ground and jerked the book out of Nori’s arms. He brought it back around and hurled the book at the elf. It pegged him right on the forehead. He staggered to a stunned halt and the guard dwarves reached them.

Nori grabbed his shoulders and tugged him into the aisle, away from the fighting. “We’re getting out, now! We’ll debrief in the morning!”

Ori didn’t really have anything to say against that. The fight was already drawing to an end. Ori had hit the elf with the magical weapon, and the elf was no match for the other four guards.

He allowed Nori to drag him away and back to Dale. They didn’t say a word until they were in front of the house. It was past dinner. Dori would be livid.

“Just so we’re clear, this never happened. Okay?” Nori kept his hand on the door so it couldn’t be opened until he got his answer. Ori gave him a look that made it clear just how unneeded the statement was. Adrenaline was leaving him shaky and a little queasy. He didn’t have the energy for stupidity.

“Are you mad? What reason could I possibly have for wanting Dori to know we spent the evening trying to catch two elven turn coats? Valar! He’d lock me up in the basement and you’d be looking for a new home. I’d never see daylight again and you’d be lucky if you could see at all after the pounding that would follow.” He shook his head, feeling his beads slap against his head. “No. It didn’t happen.”

“Good.” Nori said cheerfully. He pushed the door open with a wide grin and let Ori walk inside. Dori was sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a frown. Bilbo was across from him with an untouched cup of tea and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was frowning and glowing with magic.

Bad day then.

“What’s happened?” Ori asked as cheerfully as he could. His legs felt like noodles. Limp and wobbly, incapable of holding him up much longer.

“Where have you two been?”  Dori demanded with a shrill tone. Bilbo grew brighter and slumped deeper into his blanket. Dori’s head turned towards him and his lips fell further into a frown. “Never mind. We have other matters of importance right now.” He glared at Nori, clearly informing him that they would talk later.

“Bilbo?” Nori asked, ignoring Dori as he leaned against the wall. Ori joined him, thankful for the elief it gave his legs.

“I’m officially being courted by his majesty, Prince Thorin Oakenshield.”

“That’s a bad thing?” Dori, and Bilbo joined Ori in glaring at the ginger. “I mean, you like him, obviously. You never stop talking about him.”

“Zigri. Serej bund. (Magic. Idiot.)” Dori shook his head and looked back at Bilbo with a sympathetic frown.

“He told me why magic is banned in Erebor. A wizard betrayed his family in an attempt to gain a powerful stone that the royal family possessed. They killed his mother- and Dwalin’s father- and cursed the entire family line. They cursed them that they would be betrayed by magic. The entire city would burn from it, and it would be used against Thorin specifically.”

“Oh.” Ori crossed his arms over his chest. He felt cold. Was this what adrenaline usually did?

Bilbo nodded his head forlornly. “I can’t tell him the truth, but I can’t keep lying. Not if we’re courting. He-he really likes me. I owe him the truth.”

Nori cut across Bilbo before he could say anything else. “No. You really can’t tell him. Not yet. The guards just took down someone for magic. They’re arresting more people everyday. They are not lenient. You will be banished from Erebor and Dale at the least. You know what the worst will be.”

Bilbo met Nori’s gaze with a heavy one. His eyes were vibrant green and wet. He looked so tired. “But I can’t keep quiet. Not about this.”

“It’s not something you can realistically keep hidden.” Bilbo’s eyes landed on him, along with Dori’s and Nori’s. He ignored the dwarves and focused on Bilbo around a yawn. “You’re glowing right now. He’ll notice it sooner or later. Something will happen that will cause a slip. It would be infinitely worse for him to find out by accident than to just be told. I suggest you wait for an appropriate moment. Do it outside of the castle though. Then he at least can’t have you harmed.”

Because that was the truth. Bilbo genuinely liked Thorin. He lit up (literally) around the dwarf in ways that Ori had never seen him do before. He laughed more freely, and was in a better mood when Thorin was near.

But the guilt would crush him. The weight of it grew every day. A relationship -romantic or not- would not, Mahal, could not, survive under the strain.

And the dwarf clearly adored Bilbo. If they continued to pursue their relationship, if they reached the point of love…

It didn’t bear thinking about.

“In the mean time, you have to be up early tomorrow to meet your suitor.” Dori said as he stood up. He tugged his house robe tighter around himself and set his tea cup aside. “Come along. I’ll teach you the proper way to do a courtship braid.”

Bilbo’s eyes brightened a bit, and his glow seemed to grow more cheerful. For the hobbit’s sake, Ori hoped Bilbo was Thorin’s one.

He didn’t want things to end badly.

-[]-[]-[]-

The stone door opened up to reveal a tall dwarf dressed in a tunic and soft braies. His feet were bare (and hairless) and his hair was hanging loose about his shoulders. The string that tied his tunic had come undone and Bilbo could see a bit of the skin beneath his throat.

It was an all around enticing picture. One that made him swallow thickly and wipe his sweaty palms off on his trousers.

“Bilbo,” the voice was deep and slightly hoarse in the manner of one who had not talked since waking up .It made Bilbo think of seeing Thorin in a slightly more sleep rumbled manner. “I was worried you would not show up, my dear hobbit.” The dwarf stepped aside and tugged his door further open. Bilbo flashed a wide grin and strode into the room.

“And let you slip out of a courtship, sire? You must think me a fool. What other reason could there be for letting someone like you get away?” He turned around to face Thorin who was still standing in front of the open door with an almost vacant look on his face. Bilbo’s smile came easier. “Besides, I want to play with your hair.”

That snapped the spell bound dwarf out of his revere. He closed the door with a push and slid the bar back over it to secure it shut. A wolfish smile lifted Thorin’s lips at the raised eyebrow Bilbo gave him in response to that action.

“Are you ready then, my Mizim?”

“Take a seat and find out, Majesty.” Bilbo purred back. He felt remarkably playful with the prince. He was already forgetting about the worry that had kept him up far too late.

It was too simple to forget the troubles that existed in being with Thorin. Magic wasn’t something he consciously thought of as being dangerous, and Thorin was not someone he’d see harmed. Connecting the two together in his mind seemed odd. Aside from both being natural they didn’t truly seem connected.

It didn’t seem important.

Thorin took a seat at the large oak table in the center of the room and folded his hands in his lap in a dignified way. It made Bilbo imagine him being seated at a full council table while noblemen plead their cases.

The floor was cool under his feet, and the fur under the table soft. He was hardly aware of the textures as he took a spot by Thorin’s left side. There was a comb setting on the table, alongside a bottle of hair oil to help keep the locks soft and tangle free.

Thorin had prepared for his arrival. It made a warmth uncurl in Bilbo’s stomach. He took the comb up and exhaled as he brought the utensil to the dark strands. He drew it through the hair with very little resistance. Each stroke from top to bottom was simple, and methodical. It was an extremely relaxing task, and not just for him. Thorin was practically purring by the time he set the comb and oil aside. He pulled a hank of the dark hair free and sectioned it into six strands before weaving it in the pattern Dori had taught him the previous night.

“Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain the King Under the Mountain,” Bilbo quietly intoned as he held the end of the braid and tugged the bronze bead free from his pocket, “I hereby acknowledge your request to court me, and return my answer with this bead.” He clasped the bead on the braid and stepped back to look at his work.

Thorin barely breathed.

The braid hung beside his left ear and draped over his broad shoulder. the bead resided just under his heart. That made something possessive curl up in Bilbo’s stomach and he found himself smiling larger. He could feel the warmth in his chest unfurl even more, trailing up his spine and out to his fingertips. It tingled in a familiar way that was wonderful, and a warning.

Magic.

He tampered down on it and tried to relax.

Thorin pushed his chair out and stood up as he turned his head so he could look at Bilbo. His pale blue eyes were wide and awed. His smile was large and showed his teeth in a mirthful way that was a rare treat.

“We are courting.” Thorin breathed. He took a step towards Bilbo and the hobbit swayed. It was official. He’d done it. A simple hobbit of the Shire had unexpectedly caught the crowned Prince’s attention, and then unwittingly wooed the same Prince.

Bilbo laughed, a weak sound that was more of a exhale than anything, and surged forward. He wrapped his arms around Thorin and rested his head against the dwarf’s chest, over his heart. His cheek pressed against the cool metal of the bead as Thorin’s arms came around him. They held him up and close with a murmur of promises for a bright future.

Magic thrummed under his skin and he had to close his eyes against the feelings welling up in his chest. The embrace felt like a betrayal. How could he tell Thorin the truth and not be hated? 

How could he tell the truth?


	9. Chapter 9

Thorin was fairly certain that he was as puffed up as a peacock. He’d only seen the exotic bird once in his life, but the image had stuck with him.

Now, in his room with Bilbo wrapped in his arms and the hobbit’s braid in his hair, he felt just as proud.

He had opened a courtship. He had an intended. A beautiful hobbit with a warm smile that made his skin feel alive with happiness. For a month he had pursued the hobbit and now he had his victory. He had the right to proclaim Bilbo as his in front of anyone he chose. He could do anything, kiss him at any time.

He could finally taste the hobbit’s luscious lips and gift him the treasures he deserved. The hobbit (to Bilbo’s obvious mystification) had utterly bewitched Thorin. He was well on his way to love, and half dared to believe he already loved Bilbo.

He was certain that he had found his One at the least. He had opened his heart and allowed it to feel for Bilbo, and the hobbit had returned his sentiment.

They now both wore matching braids to declare themselves claimed.

He wasn’t able to stop the nonsense pouring from his mouth. Bilbo was pressed against his chest and had his arms tight around Thorin’s waist. He realized just how much broader he was than the hobbit. He felt immensely protective of the tailor in his arms and he wanted to keep him safe and gift him the world.

Was this the elation his siblings felt with their others? What his father had felt for his mother? The reason for the darkness in the dwarf’s eyes whenever he thought of her?

It wasn’t enough to hold the hobbit. Not when he had been denied so much for court propriety. He pushed Bilbo away slightly so he could fully look at him.

He was brighter. Thorin half imagined he was actually looking at sunlight. That Mahal had given form to his creation, the sun, and let him wander the earth.

What better form for sunlight than one of Mahal’s wife’s children?

The sometimes blue, but right now green eyes, looked up at him and they were large and slightly glassy. Bilbo was biting his bottom lip and looked uncertain.

There was very little time to be had before he was to be in court. He still needed to don the appropriate clothes. He would take a moment for this though.

Thorin hoped he was not about to upset him. He removed his left hand from the Hobbit’s waist and brought it to his (hairless) chin. He tilted it up and bent his own head down until there was scarcely any space between them. His eyes seemed greener the closer he got. He could make out traces of gold in them now.

He held his position, scarcely a breath between them. He would not be the one to kiss Bilbo. He would wait for such things if Bilbo wished to.

Soft warmth touched his lips, and a nose brushed against his own as Bilbo closed the distance between them. Bilbo held the position for a moment, allowing Thorin to adjust to the feeling probably.

Thorin was not one for patience. He shifted his hand to cup Bilbo’s face and pressed harder against the  hobbit. Bilbo responded enthusiastically. He gripped Thorin’s braids in both fists and moved Thorin how he wanted him. His lips pushed and pulled and rolled and nipped and never stopped moving. Everything grew warm and his skin tingled with the wonder of it as Bilbo’s tongue traced the seam of his lips.

The hobbit’s body jolted and a thump sounded. Thorin tore away for a moment and realize he’d walked them into a wall. He had Bilbo trapped between it and his body. It was a heady realization. Bilbo’s eyes were more intense, greener than they had been. He looked even brighter, almost glowing.

He felt so warm, so wonderfully warm in a way that he never had before. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest.

“Sire?” Bilbo asked, his lips quirking in a smile that made something hot curl deep in his stomach.

He was tempted to skip his duties more than he had ever been tempted in his life. As was, he hardly had the time to dress.

If he dressed now, whatever time was left could be spent ravishing his hobbit. He could try for a laugh in the mean time. The things he would do to make his hobbit laugh did not bear thinking about.

“Stay until I leave?” His voice was oddly lower. A strange, guttural tone he had not actually reached before. The effect it had on Bilbo was thrilling. The hobbit shivered and his pupils seemed to grow larger, making his eyes greener and darker.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

Thorin smirked. “I will hold you to that.” He stepped back to allow Bilbo freedom from the wall. The hobbit’s lips lifted in an utterly wolfish grin and his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“You can hold me any time, my Prince.”

-[]-[]-[]-

Bilbo was waiting on him by the time of his return that evening. He’d been smiling more all day, much to his siblings and Dwalin’s amusement. Balin had even chuckled and offered him a congratulations.

Bilbo was reading something at the table. He had one leg up in the chair and his arm was wrapped around the leg. His cheek rested against his knee as he flipped the page of whatever book he was looking at. His new braid dangled by his ear, twisting with one of the other two he wore.

The hobbit hadn’t noticed his appearance yet.

He walked towards the hobbit as quietly as possible, using the years of living in the room to avoid creaking spots. He went to the back of the chair and placed his hands lightly on the back. Bilbo continued reading. Curiosity trickled up Thorin’s spine.

What was so interesting a read that it would so completely enrapture someone?

Thorin moved to look over Bilbo’s shoulder, intending to see what he was reading, but he was thoroughly distracted halfway there by Bilbo’s heavenly scent. Fresh strawberries, lemon soap and old leather books. Thorin just stood there for a long moment, drinking in the scent of the hobbit’s skin, his eyes closed and slightly fluttery.

"Thorin?"

The unexpected, and curiously breathy tone made Thorin’s eyes snap open, wide. "Hm?" He asked distractedly.

"What are you doing, Thorin?" the hobbit asked, his own eyes slightly wide.

He very nearly answered ‘Smelling you.’ He shook his head and chased after his scattering thoughts. “Investigating what had so captured your attention that you didn’t hear me enter.”

“Reading.” Bilbo answered, rather obviously. Thorin shook his head and walked around to the table. He leaned against it so he was facing Bilbo and peered down at him.

“What, specifically?” Bilbo tilted the book back so Thorin could see the title instead of answering. It was a book on stopping magic. He had not been aware that you could get any books on magic in Erebor. The mere sight of the word made him uncomfortable. It was ridiculous. he had spent far too much of his life being told that magic was wholly evil.

“Magic? What is your interest in the subject?” His voice remained impassive and non accusing, which had been his goal.

“Have you tried breaking the  curse?”

Thorin raised his eyebrows in surprise at the seemingly non-sequitur. He was mildly insulted by the question as well. “Of course. My father called in several wizards, none of whom were actually allowed in the city, to try and lift the curse. It could not be done as there was no active magic. Not until the curse starts can it be changed. Only that or Saruman’s death. He has not been found since he disappeared.”

“Magic wards?”

“Could be the very thing that brings about our end. It is safer to disallow all magic. Though I suspect magic will not trigger the curse.”

Bilbo’s head tilted back a bit in surprise and his eyes widened. The book slipped shut in his lap. “But-what?” Thorin let his eyes slip closed as the memories surfaced. The heat from the blast, the darkness of the niche. He could feel Frerin’s panted breaths against his skin as Saruman’s deep voice rang through the room with damning finality.

“I curse your house for now until I have what I seek. Magic has robbed me of that which should be mine, and it shall be a blight on your house from now on. By magic, all your family will burn when the first bears that which was entrusted. When the heart meets with the heart of the line, desolation will come.”

His voice was raspier as he spoke. A low note that was more air than volume. The words felt dark in his mouth and left a bitter taste on his tongue. His mother’s scream echoed in his ears and he could remember the sad determination in her eyes as she locked them away.

He forced his eyes to open again and looked at Bilbo. His hobbit had gone pale and his eyes were wide and very blue. His skin looked thin, papery almost and his curls even seemed to hang more limply.

He murmured something in a tongue that was not familiar to Thorin and wrapped his arms around his leg, holding himself close and looking frightened. “I do not think magic will be the start of the demise of my house because I do not interpret the curse that way.” Bilbo said nothing so he continued. “I believe that _I_ will be the trigger. ‘When the first bears that which was entrusted.”’

“You?” Bilbo squeaked, he grew even paler and a fine tremble started in his limbs. Thorin pushed off the table and sank to the floor in front of Bilbo. He had no idea what was causing the halflings reaction, but he didn’t want it to continue. He took the hobbit’s hands in his own and frowned at how chilled they were.

“Yes. The first would mean me. I have suspicions on what the ‘bears’ means, but I have never spoken it.”

“Don’t!” Bilbo rushed. His hands gripped Thorin’s and he dropped his leg to the ground to get nearer to Thorin. “There is terrible power in the spoken word. Don’t speak it out loud to anyone. Simply make sure that whatever it is never comes to pass.”

“I should have spoken of this to you before we started our courtship. You should have been aware of just what the danger to you is. I am a dangerous dwarf to be attached to. My future is tainted with fire and death.” He closed his eyes as Bilbo slipped onto the floor beside him and wrapped his arms around as much of Thorin as he could. He was unaccustomed to this. To sharing anything. Be it feelings or thoughts. It was something he would have to work on. He had not wanted Bilbo to know all of the story for fear that the hobbit would runaway.

When the curse came to pass- and Thorin did not think banning magic would stop it- anyone near to him could be in danger.

“Thorin… I-” Bilbo clung to him tighter and swallowed. His nose was pressed against Thorin’s throat and he was very nearly sitting in his lap. Each word had his lips brush against Thorin’s skin, and it was a maddeningly distracting feeling.  “I have to tell you-”

It wasn’t until the third rap on the door that Thorin realized why Bilbo had stopped talking. He turned his head to peer at the door as Bilbo scrambled to get off his lap. He stood up stiffly with a suppressed sigh and righted his weskit. “Enter!”

For Dwalin’s sake, it had better be important.

-[]-[]-[]-

Bilbo couldn’t stand still. His skin was crawling and he felt as if every nerve in his body was crying out.

He was a coward. He was an idiot.

He was wearing a hole in the fur. The nice, thick, white fur that had probably belonged to some fearsome beast that Thorin had killed. He could hear slightly agitated tones coming from the outer chamber that sounded somewhat like Dwalin. The occasional response from Thorin was also thrown in, but it was doing nothing to calm Bilbo.

He had very nearly confessed to Thorin.

Bilbo had almost told him that he possessed magic. When had it even become such a bad thing? He’d lived his entire life with magic and had never been ashamed of it. He hadn’t even disliked his magic when it had been the reason that others judged him. Gandalf had made it always seem wonderful and important.

He’d said that Bilbo would do great things. He’d never mentioned curses.

That was the thing, wasn’t it? Bilbo wasn’t certain that he wasn’t the curse. No other hobbit had magic. What if he was a manifestation of the curse? What if he’d been cursed with magic to harm Thorin? What if Thorin had even been charmed to fall for him?

It sounded crazy even in his head. It wasn’t till he’d come to Erebor that he even started thinking magic could be evil. It had always been a gift. A wonderful gift to those opposed to evil.

Bilbo wouldn’t hurt Thorin, and he was in control of the magic. It was because there was fairy blood in his line. Nothing else. He was driving himself mad with not telling. He need to tell Thorin the truth.

Just not now. Now he was in Erebor and the results of his conversation could be quite painful.

Bilbo sat down abruptly and curled his toes into the rug. The bed shifted beneath his weight and the quilt was as soft as silk under his fingers. The fire crackled in the quiet room and the sound of it put Bilbo on edge.

He was glowing slightly. He clamped down on the magic swiftly and focused his thoughts. Panic was the enemy of control. He’d never had so many problems before he started at Erebor.

Thorin drew it out of him. The magic wanted to touch him. It wanted to wrap the dwarf in golden light and keep him safe from the world while drawing him near.

He would tell him soon. He would take Thorin out on a picnic and show him.

Bilbo scooted further back on the bed before laying straight back. Thorin had a delightful bed. It was large and extraordinarily soft and-

By the Lady Fair, he was on Thorin’s _bed. He was laying on Thorin’s bed_.

The hobbit’s cheeks heated up and he bolted upright with the intention of climbing off.

“Don’t get up on my account, Mizim. In fact, I think I shall join you.” Thorin strode across the room with steady steps and shed his cloak and coat as he went. He toed off his shoes and shrugged his weskit off before Bilbo could think of anything to say. How had he not noticed the voices had stopped?

Thorin climbed up beside him on the bed and Bilbo unthinkingly moved further back on the bed. Thorin’s grin turned dark and salacious. He moved towards Bilbo who leaned back on his elbows. Thorin straddled his waist and propped himself over Bilbo.

He was _so_ solid. Deliciously compact, warm, and strong enough to lift Bilbo if he desired. He was devilishly clever, kind hearted, and loyal to those he trusted. As Thorin closed the distance between their mouths, Bilbo realized why he had faltered in telling. It wasn’t just fear of punishment.

It was fear of loss.


	10. Chapter 10

The gardens of Dale were beautiful. The air was fresh around them with a cool breeze that whispered across the grass and growing things like a fairy song. It shifted Bilbo’s hair as he walked, and the grass tickled his toes. The trees danced in the gentle wind, waving hellos to eachother and decorating anyone who passed underneath them in flowers.

Bold dashes of color littered bushes and grew in bunches everywhere. Vines tangled around gnarled trees and reached towards the heavens with reckless belief that they could, in fact, reach it.

It was visible magic. Something deep within Bilbo, possibly his very soul, loved walking in the garden. Nothing compared to the feeling of grass between his toes and bark against his skin. Flowers under his hand were softer than silk, and the cool breeze was deliriously delightful. The warmth of the sun heated him to the core and the feel of her rays made him wish to shed his cloak and dance.

It was the closest to being at peace he could get outside of letting his magic flow.

Thorin was by his side. He had Bilbo’s hand twined with his own, and a soft smile about his lips. His eyes drifted between the path ahead of them and attempting to discreetly study Bilbo. His stealth left something to be desired, but it made Bilbo happy to catch him staring.

Dwalin and Ori trailed a few yards behind them. Far enough not to hear or be heard, but near enough to aid in trouble.

Bilbo had no idea how he managed to talk Ori into joining them. He’d even made Dwalin accept the idea. (Quite happily judging by the occasional deep chuckle he could hear.)

He wasn’t about to judge strange friendships. As he had always thought, strange attracted strange. Strange friendships tended to be the strongest.

“So the shepherds of the forest lost their wives?” Thorin asked with a tilt of his head. Bilbo could not figure out how they had ended up on Ents of all topics. He was simply grateful he had actually met one in his lifetime. Quickbeam was not the grandest, or most important, of ents, but he was impressive none the less.

“Yes, and if you ever have the chance to speak to one of them about it they will give you quite a slow song.”

“Slow?”

“Ents are slow about everything. ‘Don’t be hasty!’ Is their life motto.” He laughed and watched as Thorin’s eyes softened at the sound of it. “A fauntling was far too hasty for their taste, I’m afraid. Still, it was an enjoyable experience.”

“Why did you find yourself in the vast forest of Fangorn?”

And there that clencher rose again. He paused by an old oak tree and ran his fingers along the nearest branch. A leaf fell from her heavy branches and drifted into Thorin’s hair. Bilbo’s lips shot up in delight and he tugged Thorin nearer.

“My Oakenshield, I believe the lady wishes to garb you in her leaves in delight at protecting your life.”

Thorin’s eyes flickered to the lock of hair that Bilbo reached for where the leaf was tangled. He twisted several locks together around the leaf and wove them into a simple braid to hold it. The pale orbs returned to look at him and Bilbo felt his mouth run dry at the look in them. “Were we not being followed by two others I would press you against this tree and have you, my tempter.”

“I think she might not like that.” Bilbo murmured, his voice hitching part way through. Thorin grinned wickedly and took his hands again. He lifted it to his lips for a whiskery kiss.

“I might not care, Mizim.”

“No more leaves, my lady.” Bilbo’s skin buzzed with possibilities and elation at the smile he earned from Thorin.

“Still you speak with a tree? How can I regain your attentions.”

“You cannot while they’re near.” He tugged his hand free and nearly danced away. Thorin followed him with a growl of khuzdul that made him laugh again. His hand was once again snagged and they continued to walk through the trees.

“How have you heard tale of the ents? I was told they were known only to those who love trees.”

Thorin smiled softly and moved to walk nearer to Bilbo. “Constant studying. It helps to keep my mind active.”

“Active?”

“One must have an an active mind to be royal, less they die of boredom.”

“Why?” Thorin smirked and his eyes were full of mirth. It saddened Bilbo and made his heart pause. He was avoiding the reason he had come.

“It is exceptionally dull to sit on a throne for hours at a time while you listen to someone drone on about something that could have been said in mere minutes.”

Bilbo laughed, though it was a forced sound. Thorin eyed him and stopped walking. Bilbo tried to look cheerier but his body was singing with fright.

Why had he chosen a walk through the woods? It would look like he was trying to get the prince alone to murder him.

He could hear Ori and Dwalin coming to a stop behind him. He would never be able to thank the dwarf enough for his silent support. They stopped talking and he could imagine how Ori looked. He was probably biting his lip and wringing his hands together. He’d undo the stitches on his gloves if he wasn’t careful.

Thorin studied Bilbo and frowned. “What is it, Bilbo? All the sunshine has left your face.”

“I have something to tell you, and I am almost certain it will not go over well.” He stood a little taller and felt as if he could almost breath. He’d started. It would get a bit harder, but then so much easier.

Thorin’s face, which had been light and full of joy shuttered blank like closing the cover on a book. Bilbo could no longer read him. He didn’t really have a right to until he was honest. “What is it?”

“I… I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a bit of a private person. I don’t open up much about my past.”

Thorin nodded his head. “There’s a reason for that. Several, actually.” He frowned and tried to think about how to explain. None of the speeches he’d imagined were any good. “My first kiss was from a boy that lived down the lane from me. I wasn’t expecting it at all. We were pruning the azaleas when he pressed me against the bush and kissed me. He squeezed my hand so hard it should have hurt, but it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. Then he married the girl that lived next to me.”

Bilbo met Thorin’s gaze again and the corner of his lips quirked in a horribly wry grin. “Because I’m… strange, I have been outcasted much of my life. So I never set much stock on the ‘love’ lark. It didn’t seem as real as what I had.” He tilted his head to indicate Ori standing with Dwalin in the distance. Such as strange relationship they had. He could see questions building in Thorin’s eyes. Questions he could not answer until he addressed the obvious problem.

“I became less trusting as a child when I first learned I was unusual. I was not accepted in the Shire, and I’ve spent most of my life traveling in one way or another. I have to practice constant restraint and I never relax. I-”

He would have kept going with the words ‘I have been different all my life because I am the only hobbit capable of magic’ but the magic in his very bones sang out, suddenly alert and worried. His skin tingled and his hair stood up on the back of his neck as he turned his head sharply to the left. He could see them right at the edge of the hollow. There were three of them altogether, easy enough to beat. Thieves were forever hiding out in the gardens as very few people ever went in them.

“The prince, huh? He’s sure to have a pretty penny.”

Bilbo acted without conscious thought even as Dwalin surged forward. He shot his right hand straight out as he twisted his body to face the intruders. Magic poured out of his hand and coursed towards Thorin and Ori in golden light. It surrounded the dwarves and lifted them both up and away from the thieves. It deposited them on the ground and kept a shimmering shield of magic encircling them. He lifted his other hand and shot out a blast of red light that went down into the ground. The branches nearest the thieves sprang to life and started to wind around their limbs.

Dwalin hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between Bilbo and the thieves. He wasn’t sure who he should chase. Who the bigger threat was. It was an exceptionally humbling realization.

He finally went for the thieves who were shouting out curses that would have made Bilbo blush if he wasn’t really from the full realization of what had just happened.

He’d revealed himself. Dramatically.

He lowered his left hand, releasing Thorin and Ori while he focused his mind on the tree limbs that were gripping the thieves. Slowly, one by one, he released their limbs as Dwalin reached them. The dwarf subdued them as he reached them. He didn’t look back at Bilbo.

The air felt heavy, and not in a pleasant way at all. He dropped his right hand and turned on his heel. There was nothing left to delay for. He’d given his all. He could be either accepted, or rejected. He had enough energy to escape with, he’d have to take Ori with him of course, and pick up Dori and Nori on their way out. He had no idea where they’d go, only that they’d have to go.

Ori was standing, staring at Bilbo with a quiet resignation that was painful to behold. The dwarf didn’t look angry at all. Bilbo had just destroyed all three of their lives, and he wasn’t even bitter.

Finally he turned his gaze to Thorin. The dwarf prince was still sitting on the ground, gaping at the tree that Bilbo had called to life. His limbs felt heavier just thinking about it. He would need a long rest later.

“Thorin,” he started and he couldn’t even hear his own voice. He swallowed thickly and tried again. “Thorin-”

“What are you?”

“A hobbit.” His shoulders dropped and a sharp pain shot through his chest.

He hadn’t expected it to hurt so quickly. “A hobbit that was born with the gift of magic. That’s what I tried to tell you. I’ve traveled everywhere and never stayed in one spot until recently because I have magic. My parents died when I was a babe and no guardian would take care of a child that could glow. A wizard, Gandalf, came for me and he raised me up.” Bilbo held his hands out to either side and called on the magic in the air all around him. Yellow balls of light sprang to life in his hand. “This is my secret.”

“You have lied since the moment we met?” The light dissipated. Annoyance tried to flicker to life in Bilbo’s stomach but it was fighting a losing battle.

“No. I simply didn’t tell all that I am.” Thorin shifted on the ground and winced in pain from something. Bilbo stepped forward automatically to tend to him.

“Get away from me,” Thorin spat, his face twisted with fear and dark because of it. He looked at Bilbo without knowing him. As though he was looking at a murderer instead of the one he had asked for the privilege of courting. The pain in Bilbo’s chest was crying out louder, sending the ache to his other limbs. His throat burned and his mouth was desolately dry.

Dwalin, having finally bound the last would be thief, went to Thorin’s side.

“I-” Bilbo started, but there was nothing to say. No plea he could utter that would make this better. He was magic, and Thorin knew. He’d delayed too long in the telling.

Ori’s hand wrapped around his and he was tugged backwards, a step away from Thorin. He was still glowing with faint traces of magic, it was sparkling across his skin and winding its way around Ori’s wrist and arm. It always did that. Ever since he was little. His magic would trail away from him in tendrils of light, seeking friends and loved ones to wrap around. To hold close and protect.  Tendrils of light were heading towards Thorin even as he stood.

“Come on,” Ori urged, his soft voice determined. He tugged again and this time Bilbo followed. He took another step and then turned. The beauty of the garden was gone, and even the warmth of the sun couldn’t relieve the ache in Bilbo.

He ran into the woods with Ori’s hand still firmly wrapped around his own. It was the one tether to the world. The only reminder that magic hadn’t, and wouldn’t, steal all he had.

-[]-[]-[]-

Bilbo had glown brighter than the sun. He had tossed Thorin through the air as though he weighed nothing more than a leaf, and deposited him in the grass in a whirl of light. Through the shimmering colors he had watched as Bilbo called a tree to life. Like one of the ents in the story they had been telling.

The tree had danced and twirled its branches around three men that Thorin had not seen approaching it held them still as Dwalin reached them.

Bilbo had magic. Bilbo could wave his hand and cause trees to bend to his will.

He was brighter than sunlight, golden and beautiful in the garden. More powerful than anyone Thorin had ever seen.

He had betrayed everything that was Thorin. He had known about the curse, known what magic could, and would, do to his family.

Liar. Bilbo had used him. Manipulated him. Bewitched him perhaps?

It mattered not. He had revealed the truth. He was magical, and forbidden. A forsaken curse that had tried to slip into his heart and home unnoticed. It had taken the bright, joyful hobbit and made him the root of what would destroy Thorins’ family.

And Thorin had nearly let it.

He let Dwalin pull him up from the grass. He would return to Erebor and excuse himself from court for the remainder of the day. The pain of Bilbo’s actions were already spreading through his body. His heart hurt with each beat and a roaring chasm was tearing its way through his chest.

He would retreat to his room. He had to think and breathe.


	11. Chapter 11

Bilbo was fairly certain his feet were numb. He couldn’t really feel the ground beneath his feet and he had no idea how he managed to trudge forward.

Ori didn’t release his hand. He held on tight and led the way so Bilbo didn’t have to focus on anything but moving forward.

It was hard to do.

“That probably could have gone a lot worse.” Ori finally said once they reached the house. They weren’t being followed, and it looked like Dori was the only one at home. Ori was apparently counting the entire debacle of an afternoon as not being a complete failure.

Though he hadn’t just destroyed his future because he’d panicked.

Bilbo needed to be more optimistic. He couldn’t focus on the way Thorin had looked at him. Or his tone when he had spoken. Not until he was alone in his bed under the cover of dark could he think about it. When no one else would see him he’d consider everything that had happened. He couldn’t think about it until then or he wouldn’t keep moving.

He had been allowed to leave. They were being given a chance to escape at least.

He really hoped they didn’t have to move. The banishment of magic didn’t extend to Dale, though most of its citizens were extremely leery of magic. They didn’t want to have their trading rights with Erebor revoked because of it.

He’d have to return to just being a marketer. To no longer seeing Thorin every day.

“We’re not dead, so yes. It could have been far worse.”  Bilbo’s voice was a little thicker than usual, but not terrible all things considered. He reached for the door only to have it tugged open and a half frantic Dori on the other side.

“Get in! Quick!” Their hands were grabbed and they were tugged into the house. Dori pushed the door shut behind them and immediately brought the bar back down over it.

“Are they home?” Nori’s voice rang from the kitchen.

“Yes.” Bilbo responded. There were articles of clothing lying about and partially filled packs. His stomach sank.

“Then calm down. We’re not under arrest yet.”

“Yet!” Dori called back. He pushed past Bilbo and Ori, who were still standing in front of the door, and scooped up a pile of clothes. He deposited it on the table and tugged a pair of long underwear free to fold.

“What’s going on?” Ori’s voice was perfectly polite and together. One would never have guessed that he had just been dragging Bilbo through trees in an attempt to get away from a potential death threat.

He was so tired. Not only was he drained from the magical display, but the depression of what had happened was sapping him of his additional energy.

“Dori is over reacting.”

“I am not! There was a guard!”

“He wanted to know if we had seen Bilbo and Ori. We hadn’t and he went away.” Nori appeared out of the kitchen with a sandwich and mug of ale. He took a swig and offered Ori a smile. “You two okay?”

“He knows.” Bilbo’s shoulders slumped and he felt a terrible weight settle on his body. There was no going back now. His fate was in Thorin’s hands, and he’d been an utter fool and let the dwarf have control of his heart as well.

From the expression he’d glimpsed as they’d run away, neither was very safe.

“Yes. Well. There was rather a bit more to it than that.” Nori’s eyes dropped down to their still joined hands as Ori spoke. A string of light had wound itself all the way up to Ori’s elbow. The dwarf couldn’t break free if he wanted to. Bilbo didn’t want to think about why he was holding onto Ori. Even magically. It was a fairly large statement about his abandonment issues.

Dori stopped folding clothes. His hands fisted around the cloak on the table and he looked at them a little desperately. “What else is there?”

“We were walking the gardens-Bilbo with Thorin, and I was with Dwalin- when these three… thieves? I think that was what they were. We didn’t really stay around long enough to find out. When these thieves decided robbing the crowned Prince would be a grand idea.”

“Mahal.” Nori blurted. He shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich. He was extremely nonchalant for a dwarf that could be kicked out of the city and was already being questioned by guards.

“Oh, and Bilbo-” Ori finished Dori’s question with a head nod.

“Reacted. He pushed Thorin and myself away and surrounded us with a shield while he manipulated a tree into stopping the thieves.”

“Never have been subtle, mate.” Nori snorted. A sock soared through the air and pegged him on the side of the head. He yelped in surprise as Dori propped his hands on his hips and scowled.

“Show a little -”

Three raps sounded on the door and everyone in the small house froze. Bilbo’s eyes darted to Ori, who was looking equally as startled. His stomach swooped and he felt shaky suddenly. His skin vibrated with power and he started to glow brighter.

“Stop that!” Nori snapped. He grabbed both their arms and jerked them back towards the kitchen. “In the washroom, both of you! Keep quiet. Dori! Get the door. Don’t give us away.”

They were unceremoniously shoved forward. Bilbo tripped and righted himself on Ori who tugged the washroom door open as Dori opened the front door. Nori slipped away to join him and they squished into the small space.

“Bofur!” Dori’s tone was far too cheery and it made Bilbo push further back into the space. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Are Bilbo or Ori home?”

“No.” Nori cut into the conversation. “Let’s stop beating around the bush, okay? I don’t know what his highness wants them for, but they’re not here. When they do get here, I’ll see if they want to see him. If they don’t? Then they won’t be here any longer until whatever it is has cleared up.” There was a pause, during which Ori squeezed his hand. “Now, what does the prince want with my brothers?”

“His majesty, Prince Thorin, has not sent me.”

Bilbo’s mouth popped open in surprise. He turned his head at the same time as Ori and they held each other’s gazes. Apparently the dwarf hadn’t expected that either. Who else had already found out then?

“Then who has? Why do you keep harassing us?”

“Nori. Manners.” Dori warned quietly.

“Because my boss, Dwalin, sent me. He wishes to speak with both parties as soon as possible. He will not harm your brothers, Mister Nori.”

“Then he can come and get them himself. If that happens, I’ll let them know he’s looking.”

“Then I’ll inform my boss of such.”

The door closed with a loud click.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin was cold. The fire was bright, and warm but it was devoid of heat for the weary dwarf.

He’d went straight to his chambers and left Dwalin with the task of informing everyone that he would be indisposed for the remainder of the day.

He was seated in front of the roaring fire with a fur draped over his shoulders. He’d taken off all his finery and wore a simple tunic and braies. His hair was unbraided, save for Bilbo’s braid. He was fingering the bead that clasped it and trying to understand his heart.

It was uncertain.

His heart beat off rhythm, and he was oddly aware of its strange fluttering. Breathing was no longer simple, and it felt as though there was something very heavy sitting on his chest. Each movement caused the ache to sting.

He had been betrayed. Betrayed by the one he had chosen. Betrayed by the hobbit he thought would be his sunlight. The hobbit had known what dangers magic held, and had never once tried to inform him of the truth. He had not revealed himself until danger appeared. Had he ever even truly felt for Thorin? Had it all been a lie? He clearly did not hold his life in high regard. Perhaps he wished to trigger the curse.

He could hear his mother’s screams echoing in his ears. The light of the fire was too similar to the green light that had stolen his future and mother.

“Thought you’d still be here.” The door, which Thorin had not heard open, shut as Balin and Dwalin went inside. The older dwarf was carrying a tanker of amber liquid and three cups. He set it out on the table and took a chair. Dwalin pulled one out for Thorin. The prince considered it for a long moment. His chances of ignoring the two dwarves, or getting them to leave, were not promising.

He stood up slowly and let the fur slip from his back as he trod across the floor to take the chair offered. Balin poured him a measure of the liquid and passed the cup. He downed it in a single gulp. Its burn distracted him for a wonderful moment.

Whiskey.

“So…” Balin started as he poured himself a small bit. “Bilbo.”

“I would rather not speak of the betrayer or his companion.” He could still see the streams of golden light wrapping around the dwarf as he took Bilbo’s hand. It made something unpleasant curl in his stomach.

It would be better to forget.

“Betrayer?” Dwalin asked with a raised eyebrow. He waved away the offered glass.

“Yes. Betrayer.” He met Dwalin’s gaze, daring him to contradict him in this. Balin took his glass  back with a shake of his head.

“That seems a bit harsh, laddie.”

“What would you know of it? You were not lied to. You were not bewitched.”

“Neither were you.” Balin cut across. His tone held no room for argument. “You know that you cannot bewitch the heart. There is no charm or curse to change that.”

“What does it matter? I was still betrayed.” He glared at the table top. “Unless you believe I should simply open my arms to the liar again.”

“Well, I can hardly speak for the hobbit, that’d be your area.” Dwalin pointed out. Balin poured another measure of whiskey and passed it to him. “But I can vouch for the dwarf. Ori is of excellent character. He is quiet, clever, unbelievably so- and loyal to a near fault. He cares deeply for his brothers, obviously, and is loyal to you, Thorin.”

It took a lot of energy to raise his head. The room seemed overly bright and the pain in his soul seemed to burn more intensely at the sight of it. Dwalin’s expression was earnest and he was leaning forward on the table.

Always honest.

“He brought a plot to bring magic into the kingdom to my attention immediately. Two elves who intended to harm your father had found a weak spot in our defense. At risk to himself and his brother he agreed to help in capturing them. He even drew us very detailed sketches of the cowards so we could not miss them.”

Thorin’s brow furrowed and he slouched forward in his chair. He rested his arm on the table and distracted himself with trailing a finger along the condensation on his glass.

“Are you listening?” Balin asked softly. “He revealed magic in the kingdom. The only person he didn’t reveal? Bilbo. Someone who is apparently a brother to them. I don’t know what binds them, but I’m going to wager a guess that it had something to do with the fact that the brothers Ri have never been embraced by their kin.”

“So they take up with magicians? Is that supposed to change my heart? I care not about the brothers Ri.”

“Your heart?” Dwalin shook his head and frowned. “No. It’s supposed to make you think.”

“So you think that I should embrace the one who lied to me and will lead to my families destruction?” He pushed the glass away and leaned back in his seat. Dwalin straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. Balin simply shook his head.

“No, sire. I’ve never believed that Thrain went about the curse properly, you know that. You used to agree with me.”

“You’ve always believed we should gather our magical allies closer and flood the kingdom with powerful wizards who are loyal to us. I am aware.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and feverishly wished that his headache and the bone deep ache in his body would dissipate. “I care not. I will not speak to this betrayer. He could have told me openly that he was… afflicted with magic. Instead he allowed us to begin a courtship knowing that he endangered all that I love in entering Erebor.”

He closed his eyes and considered the hurt brewing in his chest. It was a large, intense, knot of emotion that seemed to grow with each beat of his heart. Why had Bilbo not trusted him?

Why had he ever acted subservient? He was clearly powerful, probably more so than anyone else in Erebor. He could easily make everyone bow to him and tend his every whim, but he was content to work as a tailor?

Had he thought Thorin would kill him? Clearly they had not shared any true affection. Bilbo knew nothing of him.

And Thorin clearly knew nothing of him.

-[]-[]-[]-

Dwalin was not the most patient of dwarves. He was stubborn and tough. He did what he wanted when he wanted. He rarely waited for anything.

He was loyal to the royal family by bonds that no other could understand or break. They had taken him and his brother in when they had no where else to go. He would do anything to protect the family.

Their happiness mattered to him, and that was why he was sitting in a tavern in Dale late at night waiting for what would likely be an awkward conversation.

There were a group of humans singing something off tune, and several dwarves laughing loudly.  

He wasn’t certain he was doing the right thing. Balin believed it was a good idea. His brother had never been wrong about such things. He was wiser than any other being Dwalin had met.

But if Thorin found out…

“You what?” The raised voice drew Dwalin’s attention away from his worrisome thoughts. He looked up to see Bilbo standing near the tavern’s entrance with Ori at his side. They had been stopped by a very drunk dwarf who looked as if he was trying to proposition Bilbo.

Dwalin stood up and stepped away from his table. None of the three noticed him.

“Come on. You’ve got a pretty mouth on you, hobbit. It’s what your kind’s good at, ain’t it? Gettin’ on  your knees for pleasure ‘n all that.”

Ori turned his head to look at Bilbo with an utterly disbelieving gaze. Bilbo was glaring at the dwarf and Dwalin half imagined his eyes had turned brighter. He was fairly certain that was a sign of the hobbit’s well hidden magic.

“Tread carefully, dwarf. I come from a long line of hobbits who should not be underestimated.” He made to step around the drunk but the dwarf stepped in line with him.

“You are a hobbit! How harmful can you be? Your people name your children after flowers.”

“His mother was named Belladonna.” Ori interrupted. He smirked and Dwalin found his own eyes widening. He looked back at Bilbo and found himself agreeing. The woman who bore Bilbo had to be impressive. The name suited her. Someone who looked pretty and unassuming but would destroy any who underestimated them.

“A plant.” Bilbo huffed and shook his head. He looked disgusted.

“Honestly, you don’t know anything about plants, do you? How have you not died in the wild? Belladonna is a poisonous plant.” He smirked and propped his hands on his hips. “Or perhaps you know it by it’s other name. Nightshade.”

“You would do well to crawl back in whatever hole you emerged from.” Dwalin said, finally making himself known. Both Ori and Bilbo started, but the dwarf that was harassing them jolted. He clearly recognized Dwalin for who he was.

“Dwalin.” Bilbo greeted formally. Ori smiled and glanced at Bilbo unsurely. The two followed him to the table he had in the back and sat down without a word.

“I’ve asked you here because Thorin is not happy.”

“It’s been four days.” Bilbo interrupted. His face was carefully composed. The blue of his eyes was mixed with green and unease creeped up Dwalin’s spine. “With nothing.”

“Not strictly true.” Ori’s voice was quiet, but just as sure as Dwalin remembered. He glanced at Dwalin with honey-colored eyes before staring at Bilbo. “We’ve been asked for by several guards.”

“That’d be me. I need to ask a favor of you, though I can’t promise it’ll end well.”


	12. Chapter 12

Thorin’s head hurt in a familiar way. A constant throb like pinpricks just behind his eyes. The headache had been four days constant. Ever since the garden. Ever since he let his heart walk away.

He might have over reacted.

He had been terrified at the moment the decision had been made, and now he regretted it. _Bilbo_ was magic, of course, but he was _Bilbo_. He was the happy hobbit with a laugh like liquid light and eyes that were forever changing shades. As though they wished to try and distract him and always make him guess. He was the hobbit that would throw fruit at thieves and challenge anyone who didn’t follow a moral code. He was oblivious to romance and blind to obvious affection, and quicker to get lost in a moment than anyone else Thorin had ever had the pleasure of meeting.

And he had revealed himself in protecting Thorin. He had risen to his defense before anything else.

But Bilbo was _magic_ and he had lied. He had kept vital information from Thorin. He had always been the first to lay his heart bare, and he had not hesitated in sharing his history. Bilbo did none of that. He was closed off and distant, only showing affection when Thorin initiated something. He was not even certain the hobbit had cared for him. Could he trust Bilbo not to lie again?  

Could he trust Bilbo not to harm him?

His body already ached oddly. Each movement was stinted, not as natural as it had once been.

And the fire was not warm. He sat in front of it for hours to no avail. Dwalin and Balin were the only two who knew of his heart ache. Dís, Frerin and Thraín believed he had caught an illness from Nori and that Bilbo was home with his three sick dwarves, tending to them.

Imagining Bilbo tending them made him fairly ill. He wished the hobbit’s love, and knowing he no longer could posses it made his body even more chilled.

Thorin leaned forward in his chair and held his hands out to the flames. Dwalin moved behind him at the table, clearing the plates away. It was servants work, but Dwalin never hesitated to do it.

“You could just speak to him. Or must we endure your moping for more days?” Dwalin came around the back of the chair and leaned against the stone of the fireplace. He crossed his burly arms over his chest and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Thorin’s less than impressive state.

“He would not listen. I have been far too hasty in dismissing the truth.” As complicated as it was, Bilbo was not entirely wrong in his actions. That did not lessen the pain, but it made it easier to accept.

“Pardon?” Dwalin was nearly smiling. Thorin glared for all he was worth.

“You were right. Are you happy now, my friend? I should have heeded Balin’s advice but betrayal is a hard pill to swallow.”

“It was a omitted truth. A harsh one to omit, but not a betrayal. He did save you after all.”

“Is it not a betrayal to my family to long for him? Will it not dishonor the very memory of my mother who was slaughtered by magic?”

“No. No more than wielding an axe dishonors the memory of your grandfather.” Dwalin shrugged. “He was just a hobbit though. I’m sure you can find another.”

“I will not. I cannot pull another into such a curse. I wish no other.”

“Pretty words for a dwarf who is wrapped in a fur and shivering. Do you need another jacket?”

Thorin continued to glare, but he transferred his gaze to the flames. “No. And I cannot help my heart. Bilbo is ridiculous, of course. He is gaiety and light and teases relentlessly, he even talks to trees! But then he turns and he is a warrior, bright as the setting sun. He could take Erebor should he desire, yet he is content to be a simple tailor. And through it all he is wise as the wizard that taught him though he is barely of age. I have fallen for him, and I fear that I now wear his mark on my very soul.” He slumped forward in the large chair and buried his face in his hands. The darkness helped to ease the pain of staring at the golden firelight.

He was such a _fool_.

“And I cannot tell him. I should not blame him if he does not ever speak to me again. Even if I am granted _that_ gift, he will never care for me again.”

“What? Of course I care for you. You're you.” Bilbo’s voice echoed in the very empty, and very quiet room. Thorin’s heart stuttered to a stop and his head shot up. Dwalin was smirking in an annoying way and looking at someone behind him.

They weren’t alone in the room, and Dwalin had known about Bilbo’s presence. The traitor. How long had Bilbo been there? He had spoken as an idiot. A lovestruck dwarfling.

He swallowed and gripped the plush handles of his chair before craning his neck to see his doom. Bilbo was standing still in the doorway. He was wearing a cloak that covered his clothing and body, leaving only his neck and head visible. His golden curls were loose from every braid but the one that declared him a member of the Ri’s family.

The braid Bilbo had put in Thorin’s own hair suddenly felt heavy. As if it knew it would have to be removed. He could not wear the mark of a courtship that was broken.

Thorin would cut it off and put it someplace that it would never be forgotten. A constant reminder of what his fear had cost him. Promises broken on both sides. Lies and mistrust.

“What does that mean?” His voice broke the silence and he didn’t know it was him speaking until the words were hanging in the air.

Bilbo stood still for an infinity, simply studying Thorin with eyes that were somewhere between blue and green. “That you’re you or that I care for you?”

“That I’m me.”

Bilbo’s lips fluttered up in a quick smile before dropping to a neutral line. The green in his eyes -intensified. Thorin didn’t feel worried. He probably should have. It was a sign of magic coming. “What does that mean? Well, it means you're fun to be around. You're smart- brilliant even. You're funny. You're a little crazy. You've got a wonderful laugh. You're willing to speak your mind. You can tell someone to go to Mordor in a manner that makes them actually look forward to the trip. You're also very attractive. You're simply you.”

“And I will now take my leave. I will be just outside if you need me, Sire.” Dwalin bowed and left the room with a firmly placed smirk. Bilbo watched him go with an unreadable expression and Thorin watched the hobbit.

He had no idea what was about to happen.

Bilbo’s head turned back to face him slowly. His curls brushed over his shoulder and the bead brushed against his cheek. Thorin wondered what had happened to his own bead. It had been in the family for a long while. He would like it back if at all possible.

He would rather braid it back in. To restart their courtship with the truth of both their natures laid bare.

“I wanted to be angry at you.” Bilbo finally said. He held Thorin’s gaze with his own green one.

“As did I.” Bilbo flinched and dropped his gaze.

“But I knew I had no real right to be. I didn’t tell you. I tried. I tried several times.”

Thorin stood up and walked towards the fire. He was dressed in court clothing, and he was suddenly grateful that he had not taken the time to change. He looked far more impressive than he would have if he had been wearing a sleep tunic. “Why did you not? Did you believe I would harm you?”

Bilbo still would not meet his gaze. It made his chest ache to know that was indeed what Bilbo had thought. He had not earned more trust from the hobbit, and he was uncertain how to earn something that Bilbo was not willing to give.

“I am sorry that I ever gave you that fear.” He turned away and tried not to stand too rigidly. “You know what magic means to my family. The danger it presents.”

There was a light touch to the back of his arm and it made him flinch. The hand was quickly drawn away and Bilbo took a step back as he turned his head to see him. He was biting his bottom lip and looked wretched. “I didn’t fear-not that! I-I’m the only hobbit with magic.”

Thorin tried not to look to confused. What did that matter?

Bilbo huffed in frustration at his inability to make sense. “I-what if it’s the curse? What if I was supposed to hurt you? What if you sent me away? I didn’t know how to tell you and not let that happen.”

“Then you did not wish to end our courtship?” His eyes flickered to the braidless curls. Bilbo shook his head frantically and fisted his hands. Thorin took a step back and extended his arm towards the two chairs by the fire. “Come. We have much to discuss.”

-[]-[]-[]-

“That’s a terrible color on you.”

The fire had all but burned out, and the night stars were high in the sky by the time Bilbo had left Thorin’s room. Thorin had clearly wanted him to remain but he had not spoken of such things.

Not yet at least.

“Well how should I know? It feels pleasant enough.”

He had braided Bilbo’s curls again. Somewhat tentatively, but the bead was once again installed in Bilbo’s golden locks and he enjoyed the weight of it.

It felt different this time. It was more of a promise than it had originally been because Thorin truly understood _who_ he was asking.

Bilbo walked home with a heart that was entirely too light to frown. It felt possible. The future Thorin had promised him when they had started their courtship.

“You agree with me, of course, Bilbo?”

The next few days passed in a bit of a happy blur as he became reacquainted with his dwarf. He resumed his position as a tailor and enjoyed his midday meals with Thorin. He was brought to a family dinner, and once again found himself being courted by Thorin.

He enjoyed it this time. The fear of Thorin learning the truth was gone, and he didn’t have to fight his glow any time he was kissed. Thorin would hesitate when he grew too bright, but he’d always come back.

“Well, Frerin,” Bilbo said with a smile he could not get rid of, “it is a rather alarming shade of orange.” He wasn’t even certain why the vendor had fabric in that color. Or why he had been picked to accompany the two siblings to the market for shopping. There was another feast approaching and they were picking out their fabrics. Bilbo wasn’t sewing their clothes though.

“Orange? Why didn’t you say so, Dís? At least Bilbo is helpful.” He set the fabric back down and let his hand run over it again with a slightly longing touch. “Could you change its shade?”

“Gracious no. I don’t have any dye that powerful.” He shook his head at Dís who smiled all the wider in amusement. She was pink cheeked in the warm afternoon sun.

“I didn’t mean by dye. I meant by other means.” Bilbo paused and turned his head towards Frerin slowly, who was staring in his general direction. Dís frowned slightly and shifted her weight on her feet. Her hand rested on her heavily rounded stomach in a protective, worried way.

“You know?”

“Of course,” Frerin said in a blithe way.

“How much for the frightful fabric?” Dís asked while Bilbo tried to regain his breath. He hadn’t known that Thorin had told anyone else. He didn’t want others knowing. It wasn’t a secret to be shared on a whim. It was something that could easily get him sentenced to death. Why would Thorin reveal such a big thing without ever even asking Bilbo’s opinion?

“I don’t deal with wenches. Especially not pregnant ones.”

Dís’ eyes flashed in a terrible way and before Bilbo quite knew what was happening she had pulled a knife from her person and had it pressed low against the man. She managed to glare down at him despite the fact he was a foot taller than her.

“Speak to me like that again, cur, and I shall remove all that makes you a man.” She held the man’s gaze until he looked away. She took a small step back, still wielding the knife. “Now the fabric? Speak quickly or you will lose your tongue.”

Bilbo watched as the shopkeeper paled and couldn’t help the smirk of amusement that lifted his lips. The idiot hadn’t dealt with many dwarf women, clearly.  They took any insinuation that they were less than a male very personally. As they should. They also did not hesitate in graciously showing the being who had been fool enough to accuse them of being less the error of their ways.

“You didn’t know, did you?” Frerin asked while Dís bought the fabric. “That we knew.” Bilbo hadn’t even heard the dwarf coming towards him. He shook his head.

“No. I wasn’t asked if it would be alright for others to know. Not that I mind you knowing!” He hurried. Frerin smiled softly.

“I know what it is to have others judge your character for something you can’t actually control. The first thing most everyone learns about me is that I’m blind. I imagine they treat you differently when they learn the truth?”

“It’s irritating.”

“Well, Mister Baggins, aside from occasionally attempting to get you to do something incredible, I will not treat you any differently.”

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin was fairly certain it had started out as a fight. Not that he was complaining. He would never complain about Bilbo straddling his waist and showing off his talented tongue.

Still.

He hadn’t even had the chance to defend himself. He’d simply been choosing a tunic for dinner when Bilbo had burst into his room with a demand of why Thorin had told others he had magic. (He hadn’t) and then the hobbit had stopped dead in his question and gaped at Thorin like a fish out of water.

He’d then been pushed onto the bed by the eager hobbit who had promptly climbed on top of him to press his hands against Thorin’s bare chest.

“You are maddening.” Bilbo declared with a nip to his adam’s apple.

With a grunt Thorin rolled over, taking Bilbo with him and pinning the hobbit’s body to the bed. He forced the Tailor’s arms up over his head and held them there with one of his own. He propped himself up with the other one in a silent show of his dominance . Bilbo’s blue eye’s widened and tinged green at the outer edge as their breaths mingled together. He stared down at his hobbit for a moment, wanting to claim him and let Bilbo see just how much he had affected Thorin.

“Fun,” he heard Bilbo murmur as he angled his hips towards Thorin’s, “anything more?”

Their lips met in a bruising kiss that was apparently all the answer Bilbo needed. He gave the dominance to Thorin (despite how easily he could regain it) but he did not lay passively. He pressed back, nipped at Thorin’s lips, and continued to roll his hips in a maddening way. Thorin tangled their legs together to get closer and distantly noted that it was getting warmer.

He tore his mouth away, pressed his forehead into Bilbo’s shoulder and rubbed his nose into the offered neck while he tried to breathe.

“You wished to talk if I remember?” he managed before he gave into the urge to nip the skin under his nose. Bilbo yelped in response and jerked, but not in an attempt to push him off. He pressed closer to Thorin and shuddered.

“You –oh!- yes! I’m quite, ungh, upset.” He tugged at his hands in a pointless attempt to break free. Thorin continued to nuzzle at the neck. He pressed a kiss to the reddened skin but held onto Bilbo’s hands.

“Why, Mizim?” He asked with a lazy, sucked, kiss to Bilbo’s jaw. Bilbo growled and rolled his hips in a new way that had Thorin hissing in delight. He had to close his eyes and pant. His head dropped to Bilbo’s shoulder again and he could feel the hobbit’s delight at the action.

“Because you just spread information about me.”

“Such as?” He pushed himself back up to look at Bilbo. The eyes were growing greener. It was really too warm.

“That I’m magic.”

Thorin’s brow furrowed even as Bilbo wriggled under him and tugged at his hands. “I told no one.”

The seconds felt infinitely long.

“You didn’t?” Bilbo’s voice was small and confused. Thorin settled on him a little more, so that there was more of them pressed together. “Then how did –“

“Dwalin probably informed them. It is his duty to make certain they’re aware.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and Thorin dropped his head to give his lips another thorough kissing. When he pulled back he heard Bilbo murmur. “Well, they needn’t be frightened.”

“I’m sure they aren’t.” He ran his teeth against the skin of Bilbo’s neck and nipped gently at the spot where it joined his clavicle. Bilbo’s entire body jerked and his back arched to press him closer to Thorin.

“Don’t stop!” He gasped out. Thorin grinned wolfishly and licked up to the hobbit’s ear.

“I thought you were angry?”

“Shut up!” Bilbo demanded. He rolled his hips again, and tugged his hands free while Thorin was distracted. They draped around his neck and pulled him to Bilbo’s lips again. They kissed for what felt like an infinity wrapped in no time at all, and it was _so warm_.

Thorin pushed up to look down at Bilbo and froze. _Danger_ flashed in his mind and fear crawled up his spine at the sight beneath him. Bilbo had his head tossed back in ecstasy and his entire body was glowing with golden light. His eyes were shut but they were no doubt green under the lids.

Thorin he shot backwards over the bed so quickly that he banged his elbow into the nightstand. The vase on it tipped over, it’s water and flowers he kept around for Bilbo spilling on the floor, though he paid it no heed. The gold that had created an aura around Bilbo’s skin evaporated into the air. The hobbit’s eyes fluttered open and the blissful look on his face shifted to confusion

“Thorin?”

This would take a while to get used to. But Thorin _would_ get used to it.


	13. Chapter 13

Bilbo had a feeling he was being watched. It was a strange tingling in his neck that went all the way down his spine and made him shiver violently. His hands faltered on the fabric in his hands and his stomach churned.

He glanced around but didn’t see anyone for the third time.

It was just a feeling. A ridiculous feeling that would not go away.

He dropped his gaze back to the fabric and turned it over. It slid off his fingers in silky drapes that only high quality cloth could achieve. It was his favorite type to work with, for the challenge it provided.

It was going to be a new tunic for Thrain. It was the first piece he had worked on for the actual king. Most of his wardrobe was handled by a tailor that was hired solely for his use. He was a proud dwarf that Bilbo had only had the misfortune of speaking with once. He’d been thoroughly unpleasant.

He threaded his needle and sat down on his stool. He had another hour or so before the days end. He would be dining with the royal family. It was a rather high honor, of course. It also meant a lot of stress. This was his first time dining with the entire royal family since Thorin had learned the truth about his nature. The king still didn’t know as Thorin was unwilling to risk his well being on Thrain being benevolent.

His skin was still crawling.

He lowered the thread and looked around slowly. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He was still the rooms only occupant.

A quick glance at the door assured it was locked. He raised his hand slowly and murmured a spell that Gandalf taught him to force all creatures, and spells, to reveal themselves. Golden light poured from his fingertips and fell to the floor in sparkling streaks. It spread across the floor in a thin cloud and went to every corner. If there was anything present, it would flash blue and make it known.

Nothing flashed. There was nothing but golden light. The tingling feeling of being watched didn’t disappear. Gandalf had always warned him to trust that instinct. It was his natural abilities attempting to protect him.

Bilbo gave his hand a sharp twist and the golden cloud vanished. He reached for the fabrics on the table and took up a partially finished tunic before stepping back. He hugged it to his chest and cut across the room to the door with short, quick steps. He tugged it open, magically unlocking it, and stepped through before pulling it shut. He turned to the left and went down the hall with the sole intention of getting out. He couldn’t find anything in the room, but he wasn’t staying. Gandalf had told him to trust his instincts, and they were telling him something was not right.

“Bilbo?” He nearly screamed as a hand settled on his shoulder. He was gently turned around by Dwalin and found Thorin walking with the guard. The sight of the dwarves made his pounding heart settle a little.

“Is everything alright, laddie?” Dwalin’s gruff tone brought Bilbo back to the moment.

“I’m fine,” His voice was a little too high for his natural tone. He forced himself to relax and tried to smile. His initial panic was waning and he now noticed that Thorin’s pale eyes were studying him with detachment. It was the look he always bore when he worked with court. It took Bilbo a few minutes (and several kisses) to break him free of the forced indifference he needed for the court.

“There is something wrong.”

“Really,” Bilbo moved towards Thorin and took his hand. The dwarf prince allowed him to do so, and his expression became a little less hard as his blue eyes traveled to their clasped hands. “It was nothing. I just felt a little paranoid. I thought someone was watching me, but I couldn’t find anyone.”

Thorin’s head rose abruptly barked something out in khuzdul and Dwalin headed towards the tailor room. Bilbo let Thorin’s hand slip from his and moved back towards the fabric filled room. “That’s not necessary. There was no one there.” Thorin’s gaze returned to him uncertainly.

“You are certain?”

“Yes.” The dwarf’s gaze remained heavily on him. It was far more welcome than the indifference from earlier had been. Bilbo would always take any emotion over indifference.

“You can do that?” Dwalin asked. His voice cut through the haze of being stared at by Thorin. The dwarf blinked and turned his head, and Bilbo did the same. “Know if someone’s hiding?”

“Yes. It’s a basic reveal spell that my mentor taught me. It works on magic and creatures.”  Dwalin looked past him at Thorin. Bilbo couldn’t decide if the dwarf looked worried or excited.

“We didn’t know that.”

“We know very little.” Thorin pointed out. Bilbo frowned and looked between them. He still felt a little uneasy from the spy he couldn’t find. (It had just been his imagination. That was all. There was nothing there. Nothing.

“Now we can learn more. How to fight, to defend.” Dwalin stepped closer and his imposing, large, presence pulled Bilbo out of his troubled thoughts.

“I won’t use him in such ways. It is too dangerous. If we were caught-”

“Can you affect memories?” Bilbo blinked in startled surprise at the rather abrupt question and the fact that Dwalin was now towering over him. Thorin moved in closer to his side and took his hand again. Whether it was for reassurance or silent protection, Bilbo wasn’t sure.

“I, uh-what?”

Dwalin stepped closer, a glare on his face. “Can you affect memories.”

“No? Why on earth would I fool around with someone’s mind? My goodness, I barely trust myself to use healing magic.” He shivered and wrapped his free arm around his chest. That had been the one thing Gandalf had always warned him about.

Never poke around in someone’s head. Magic could not cure madness, it could only make it worse. Memories were forever, it was better not to try and erase them less one erase the wrong thing. The only cure for nightmares was a kind touch.

Do not play with the mind. It was far too fragile, and unpredictable. Even the wisest didn’t attempt it.

“You can heal?” Thorin’s tone held a note of surprise, and something...deeper. It was almost sad. Bilbo nodded his head in absent answer to the question, he was more concerned with why Thorin sounded like that. “I’m fairly adept at the healing arts. Nori tends to be unpopular and has gotten into more than a few nasty fights.” He shrugged and noted that Thorin smiled the slightest bit.

“What all have you healed?” Dwalin asked and stepped still closer. He was purposely towering over Bilbo. It took him a moment of staring to realize the dwarf was interrogating him. He wasn’t certain if it was because the dwarf didn’t really trust him, or if it was simply Dwalin’s natural instinct when he wanted to know something.

“Well, flesh wounds mostly. Though, I’m fairly good at taking down bruises and helping finger bones mend quicker.” He shrugged and tried to look normal. He didn’t want them thinking him too odd. He didn’t want to be treated differently again.

Thorin ran his thumb along the back of his hand in comfort and it made Bilbo’s shoulders relax. They weren’t leaving him because of magic. Thorin had taken him back. He’d been forgiven for his deception.

“That settles it then. We’ll start as soon as a space can be secured. Balin will find something for us.”

Dwalin stepped back and rested his hand on his war hammer. It was his relaxed stance, and it confused Bilbo. “Pardon? Start what?”

“He means to have us, Frerin, Dis, and myself, practice against magical attacks.” Bilbo’s mouth popped open.

“I have never had the means to train.” Dwalin added. “The curse has promised to use magic. We have not had a chance to study such things since we were dwarflings.”

“You want me to attack them? To use my magic to show them how they might be harmed with it?” Bilbo’s voice rose in pitch as he spoke, and he had no idea what his expression was. That was horrifically dangerous. It was practically taunting the curse. Practically asking Bilbo to be the reason that the house of Durin fell.

“Yes. I want you to show us how we can defend ourselves against magic. How we can best bring down a wizard.”

“You do not have to do it, Bilbo. No one will ask it of you. It is dangerous. If you were caught, if my father found out…” The worry was back in Thorin’s eyes, and Bilbo couldn’t really believe what he was hearing. The danger to himself had not really occurred to his mind. At least, it had seemed less important and imposing to the danger to all of them. Bilbo had lived for years concealing his magic from others. It was a skill he had honed over his lifetime.

They had nothing of the sort. They had been hidden from magic. It would be dangerous and Bilbo wasn’t certain the curse wouldn’t be triggered.

But Thorin looked scared that he would leave. Dwalin had on the most pleading expression Bilbo had ever seen him actually wear and he was shifting his weight back in forth in quiet worry.

“Alright. I’ll try.”

-[]-[]-[]-

It started in a secret tunnel/corridor thing. It was apparently a passage that would lead to an outer exit to Erebor if one were to follow it to it’s end. As it was, the room before the passage was rather spacious. Also tall, in normal dwarf fashion.

Which was a good thing, because there were eight dwarves and Bilbo squeezed into it. Dori, Nori, and Ori had refused to leave him alone. Balin had accompanied Dwalin, and the three royal siblings were standing in a huddle looking at Bilbo with obvious nerves.

Thorin was at the front, standing tall and taking Bilbo in. Dís and Frerin were behind him, standing close.

It was humbling to be the thing that frightened them.

“Right… Shall we begin?” Thorin and Dwalin nodded while the others tensed up. Dori, and Nori stood off to the side, only interested in Bilbo. Ori had a notebook and was scribbling something down in it, or sketching something.

“How would you like to start? Defense or offense?”

“Can you defend yourself against magic?” Dwalin perked up noticeably. Bilbo smiled softly and gave his head a little nod.

“Against some things.” Ori said absently. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he worked at the edge of his paper. He was sketching then. “You need something charmed to do so of course. They’re usually powerful objects. Talismans, jewelry, things like that.”

He looked up and realized everyone was staring at him. His cheeks tinted pink and he quickly looked back down at his sketch.

“Correct. Top marks.” Bilbo fidgeted and forced himself to stand straighter. He was the leader of this.  “That’s your best option for defense. Short of that, you can get behind items. Blocking the wizard’s view, and direct reach of you is never a bad thing.”

“Offense?” Thorin asked. He was standing taller and looked to be feeling more confident. More secure.

“Well, let’s just have an example, okay?” Bilbo raised his hand and aimed it at Thorin. Blue light blasted from him and hit Thorin. He remained perfectly still, not uttering a single noise. Dwalin drew his war hammer, Dís screamed, and Frerin stepped back at the sound of his sister. Balin staggered back a step.

Dori, Nori, and Ori didn’t even blink.

The light dissipated to reveal a perfectly fine Thorin. The only sign he had been hit was that his shirt was now glowing a faint blue.

“I’ll use that as my ‘attack.’ As you can see, it’s harmless. It will just make you glow so that it will be obvious I hit you.” He didn’t draw attention to the way the others were staring at him in fear.

Thorin was smiling, and that was all that would matter.


	14. Chapter 14

The lessons were going rather well. At least they seemed to be going well to Thorin’s standards. His hobbit was powerful.

He’d taken the first blast of light without giving away even the slightest hint of fear. He’d not actually had time to be afraid. Bilbo had raised his hand and sent the blast before the dwarf could do anything but brace himself. The light had surrounded him blocking all else out.

It was warm. Not meaning that it was hot, but warm. It was a pleasant heat against his skin that felt like a caress. It made him feel lighter himself. Happy perhaps? It was like seeing someone he loved. A simple, happy warmth that rose in his chest, but was actually spreading across his entire body.

It had made his heart race, his breathing hitch and come in heavy pants. His skin tingled, and his vision had narrowed to only encompass Bilbo.

It had not feel the slightest bit like an attack.

Now he couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like to have the magic crackling against his skin while he held his hobbit.

It was unfortunately distracting.

They practiced several times a week. As many times as everyone could be gathered without raising suspicion. He did not want anyone investigating too closely. Bilbo’s well being was at stake enough as was. He’d taught them all defense so far. Including things such as: what made good cover, what items were harder to penetrate with magic, what to look for in protective runes. He’d also demonstrated a few grander spells. He didn’t want them to be too shocked by anything they may see.

He never used green magic. He knew it was what Saruman had used, and he never even approached that hue.

“Oh I don’t buy that tough act for a moment, Mister Dwalin.” Bilbo huffed with narrow eyes. “I’ve spent several years with dwarves and your soft, the whole lot of you.” The declaration was made with a dignified sniff and Thorin found himself wondering just what he had missed in his day dreaming. Frerin was standing next to Ori, who slightly flushed and avoiding Bilbo’s eyes. Dis was on the other side with her hand on her stomach and a mild look of discomfort on her face.

“Watch it, laddie. Magic or no I can take you in a fair fight.”

“Meaning without magic?” Bilbo inquired with an innocent tilt of his head that made Thorin’s chest tighten with excitement. “Then it wouldn’t be terribly fair as you are a lot larger than me.” He turned on his heel and went to Thorin’s side with two short steps. “We’ll meet again tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’d like you in the practice ring. We’re going to start offense.”

He laughed at his friend's expression and followed his hobbit out of the room. They retreated to his room as was their custom after practice.

“I should let you, go but I am selfish.” Thorin closed the door behind his hobbit and put his crown on the table. He seldom wore it when in his room, and never when alone with Bilbo. The hobbit enjoyed playing with his hair and Thorin would not willingly put any obstructions to that.

Bilbo brushed against his body as he stood on his tip toes so that he was nearly level with Thorin. “And this,” his hands settled on Thorin’s shoulders, “is selfish?”

“For me.” Thorin leaned down so he was nearly kissing the enticing hobbit. “I have allowed myself very little in my lifetime. I have always had to be distant and reserved. Allowing very few to see me as I truly am. Yet, I find, with you, I wish to be rid of all that.” He didn’t mention the fact that it felt like he was betraying his mother whenever he enjoyed Bilbo’s magic. That he still did not wish to break it off, even when the guilt flooded. That he was betraying his father’s trust. He was never to meddle with magic, and he was embracing it as closely as he could.

He knew Bilbo was not a danger. That the hobbit would not betray him. Bilbo had done the opposite actually. He was doing all he could to preserve Thorin’s life. He had even caught him looking up means to create protection runes. He’d also seen him reading books on healing at night by the fire.

He did not know how to sort through all the thoughts.

Bilbo cut him off with a soft, slow, melting kiss, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

He broke from his hobbit with a growl and stomped towards the door. He jerked it open and found a guard standing there looking nervous.

“Your sister wished to know if you would be joining her for your evening meal.”

“I am afraid that I will be taking my meal in my chambers this evening. Send her my thanks and apologies.”

“Of course, My lord.” The dwarf bowed and retreated back out of the room. Thorin shut the door and once again locked it. He turned around, eager to resume kissing his hobbit, but he found his breath catching. Bilbo was standing in front of him with wide, intent eyes.

"Your eyes," Thorin murmured, and then he found he couldn’t really say anything else. The green rimmed eyes were locked on him and his face was in Bilbo’s hands.

“Thorin,” Bilbo murmured, his tone almost dreamy. Thorin swallowed thickly, his mouth was impossibly dry. His body was too warm and the air too heavy to properly breathe.

Then Bilbo’s eyes turned fully green. Thorin stumbled  back a step in surprise as invisible hands seemed to grab at him and pulled him towards Bilbo. He fell against the hobbit and then there was a whirl of sensation. Invisible hands ran all along his body, removing the clothes and jewelry he wore. He was helpless to prevent a gasp from leaving his lips and Bilbo laughed. He tugged Thorin’s face down by his braids and kissed him with laughter still bubbling over his lips.

The kiss ended as quickly as it began, and Thorin felt his entire body being drawn backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he fell onto it. Bilbo walked after him slowly with a predatory grin. Thorin’s shoes were tugged off, along with his trousers. Bilbo finally reached the bed and climbed up on it beside Thorin. His skin was glowing with light and his eyes were crackling with power. The hobbit smiled down at him and Thorin thought he should probably feel scared.

It was hard to feel anything but excitement when Bilbo was on top of him, somehow already naked, eyes wild with magic. His heart pounded and adrenaline flowed through his body. It was as heady as being in the front of a battle about to begin. Watching the enemy approach.

But there wasn’t fear.

He fell back against the pillow with Bilbo’s shoulders gripped in his hand so that the hobbit was pulled along with him.

“So this is a yes?” Bilbo asked against his lips.

“Yes,” he said, pulling Bilbo up until they were face to face. It was difficult to catch his breath, and Bilbo didn’t help as he kissed his throat and jaw. The hobbit’s skin was shining under his fingers, coating Thorin’s own skin as well. Power and magic was building under his hands, power that whispered at him, wordless and uncontrollable.

He tugged Bilbo back up until they were lip to lip. The hobbit pressed his lips to Thorin and kissed him. Careful kisses, soft kisses that grew deeper and more intent.

Bilbo moved against him sweetly as they kissed, and shuddered when he nipped at his lip. Thorin trembled with want and Bilbo responded with a deep groan. It was a beautiful sound and he found himself sliding his hands up Bilbo’s thigh to rest low on his hip, feeling the hobbit’s muscles flex as he moved against him.

“Mahal, Bilbo, you are glowing.”

Bilbo leaned back, his eyes glittering and took Thorin’s face in his hands. His fingers scratched through Thorin’s beard in a wonderful way. “Does it bother you?”

Thorin took a moment to consider the question. His heart was a tangle of thoughts and feelings, and he needed to reach the bottom of it. He could not do something with Bilbo that might hurt them both. He closed his eyes and considered the tangle, pulling on the threads until he knew his mind.

He had been told magic was evil since he was a child. He had seen his mother destroyed violently by magic. Bilbo was magic. It was as tightly wound with who he was as his hobbit identity. He loved the hobbit, and he did not fear the hobbit’s magic.

His eyes slipped back open to see his hobbit. Bilbo’s hair was a honey bronze color, and his eyes were a vibrant green that echoed spring mornings and leaves dancing in the breeze.

“It does not, Mizim.” His hands settled back on Bilbo’s waist

leaning forward, eyes on his, Bilbo licked his lower lip, then bit down hard.

He shouted out in surprise as pleasure jolted straight through his body. His hand flew to the back of Bilbo’s head to encourage a repeat, and he did. Again and again, and then slower. Then Bilbo was pressing a biting kiss to his jaw, his neck, his adam’s apple, his collar, while his blunt fingernails scratched at his chest. Thorin’s own hands were busy brushing over every inch of skin they could find. The golden light had wrapped around his own skin, and it left a tingling warmth wherever it touched. It was intoxicating felt like an intimate caress. He pushed his lips to Bilbo’s throat and bit down. Bilbo clutched at him, moaning and moving restlessly.

“Do you want to,” Bilbo tried, he moaned at a particularly sharp bite and ground his rear into Thorin’s arousal, making Thorin’s head thud back onto the pillow with a growl. “By Yavanna, you are temptation itself.”

“And you are a tease. Do whatever you will.”

“Impatient?”

“I have you glowing on top of me.” Thorin reminded he planted his feet and rolled his hips. Bilbo shivered with a keening noise and ground back. “And would move things along.”

“Impatient.” Bilbo accused with a smile.

“Selfish.” Thorin corrected. Bilbo’s smile turned wicked. He braced both his hands on Thorin’s shoulders and leaned down until his mouth was right next to Thorin’s ear.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” He nipped at the lobe of his ear, “It’s time to see the benefit of magic when one is impatient.”

Then Bilbo shifted back and brought his hips down on top of Thorin. The glow of his skin grew brighter and streams of golden light surrounded his vision as Bilbo settled on top of him, joining them as intimately as possible. He held still as possible, his head pressed back against the pillow, his hands fisting the furs he was laying on top of, and his feet flat. He  frantically thought over the laws he knew and recited them mentally to calm his adour.

“Oh,” Bilbo gasped in surprise. He rolled his hips experimentally and Thorin saw stars.

Bilbo pushed up, holding still at the apex, and smiled at him, body trembling with each movement. He grinned back and used his palms to tip Bilbo slightly forward, changing the hobbit’s angle so that he pressed against his prostate. Shuddering, a breath sobbed out of Bilbo’s throat, his elbows gave way and he half fell against Thorin’s chest.

He caught him, and Bilbo pressed a kiss against his chest, his hips still working. With another quick kiss he pushed back up and rose again before setting a steady rhythm.

Thorin pushed up on his elbows to reach his hobbit. Bilbo understood and bent down to catch his mouth, and more golden light wrapped around Thorin. It held him close and each touch was endlessly good. Bilbo’s hand came up to comb roughly though his beard as he bit down on Thorin’s lower lip. He growled in approval and Bilbo responded with a swivel of his hips. Thorin pushed his feet more firmly against the bed to get more leverage so he could better meet Bilbo’s thrusts. He snapped his hips up and Bilbo mewled against his mouth.

They kissed endlessly, wrapped in magic and warmth as Bilbo rolled his hips. His eyes were hooded and his smile large with each breath. He murmured in khuzdul, unable to think of the proper words in common as the  hobbit moved over him.

Bilbo was murmuring as well, words that Thorin could not understand. They were not common, but a language he had never heard. He slipped his hand between them and took Bilbo’s cock in his hand, stroking in time with his hobbit’s thrust. He moved, changing the angle so that he would more readily hit the hobbit’s prostate. Bilbo shouted his approval and picked up speed. He tossed his head head back, curls flying, glowing with golden light.

Thorin’s chest flooded with want and adoration as the pleasure grew. He wanted Bilbo closer. To hold him to his chest and never let go. He loved this wonder of a creature. Loved him far too dearly.

He was glorious, skin shining with sweat, flushed cheeks and magic pouring from his body. His hobbit was gazing down at him with such want and love. Mahal, he bore down and deliberately squeezed around him and he shouted. He felt Bilbo peak around him and he was gone, following his hobbit in a flurry of golden light until he couldn’t see any longer.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

The fire was warm and lit the room in an orange glow. There were no shadows to hide behind, nothing to block him from the fact that the fire was not the only glowing thing in the room.

Bilbo was still asleep. His mouth was open the slightest bit, and Thorin could hear him making an almost snuffling noise with each breath. His honey-colored curls were spread out on top of the pillow and he was laying on his side, his body curled near Thorin’s. His foot was tucked over Thorin’s calf, and the curls on the top of the foot were indescribably soft. He had one hand hidden underneath the pillow, and the other was tangled in Thorin’s hair.

All of his skin was covered with a very faint glow. It had taken Thorin several seconds to even notice it. It wasn’t solely the gold light he associated with his hobbit. It had a bit of blue (Durin blue, Thorin couldn’t help but notice) woven in as well.

Tendrils would break away from his skin and uncoil towards Thorin, occasionally reaching him. There were a few thin strands of light that had wrapped around his arm, and the tingling warmth made something stir deep in his chest that had since lodged itself under his heart, tender and fierce.

He suspected it was love. He knew he loved the magical creature, but it seemed more than that now. He was devoted to the hobbit. It was a deep unity that he had never felt with another. A choice he had made.

He would stand by his hobbit.

Last night had not been what he expected. He had not intended on joining with Bilbo, certainly not in that manner, and he had so nearly been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of power that poured off Bilbo. It had been Thorin trying to figure out what he longed for while he accepted what Bilbo gave. He now knew what he wanted. He wished to be rid of any remaining barriers of trust between them. Last night had been a step towards that. He would take another step today by professing his love and intentions out loud to Bilbo. He would continue to show his trust everyday, regardless of how long it took.

He would be patient. Bilbo was worth it.

He rested more fully against the pillow and brought his own hand to trace the contours of Bilbo’s face. Simply because he could. Bilbo’s lips lifted in a small smile of delight at the touch and blue light curled around his hand.

The tender and fierce feeling grew all the larger until it was nearly painful to simply breathe.

His father would kill him for who held his heart.

“Mmm,” Bilbo hummed sleepily with a contented smile. Thorin looked up from his lips to see his blue eyes mixed with a little green and locked on him happily. The foot that was resting on his leg slid up his calf, tantalizingly slow, and tugged his lower body nearer while the hobbit curled his own body closer. “Good morning, my prince.”

Thorin’s heart hammered in surprise and his breath quickened in reaction to Bilbo drawing closer. “Bilbo.” He murmured in reply. His thumb caught on Bilbo’s lip, which he hadn’t even realized he’d been stroking. The hobbit pressed a kiss to the digit with mischievous, and now very alert, eyes.

He ran his hand along Bilbo’s body, watching and feeling the skin quiver under his hand. His own body felt as though it were suddenly shaking with want and deep running longing. He pushed himself up and Bilbo fell onto his back against the sleep strewn furs and sheet. Tendrils of magic reached up for his skin and trailed over it in shapes that might have been words if Thorin had the mind to read it.

He was more focused on the hitches of Bilbo’s breathing and the way his eyes grew darker with different touches. He ran his hand along the hobbit’s chest, followed the lines of his abdomen and then slipped down the curve of his hips. He trailed his fingers along the glowing hands and the smaller muscles of his biceps, Bilbo’s moans music on his ears. He lowered his lips to Bilbo’s neck and followed the line of it up to his jaw bone. He spent a while there, cherishing the noises that fell from Bilbo’s lips without restraint. The fire flickered by the bedside, sending different shadows over Bilbo’s skin and accenting every line of him.

He pushed up to better see, and there was so very much to see, and found Bilbo’s eyes on him. The hobbit wove a hand into his hair and scratched at his scalp in a way that made heat curl low in his belly. He was aware, very much so, that he was between Bilbo’s bare legs. The hobbit’s gaze was hooded and open, trusting.

They were both trusting so much.

Bilbo simply stared at him for a moment before the hand pulled him down so that he was closer. One of his legs slid up to rest on his hip and pulled Thorin’s waist lower. “I like waking in your bed, âzyungâl.” The khuzdul flowed from his lips easily as one of his hands slid up Thorin’s arm to rest on his shoulder. His eyes crinkled at the corner in a smile as he drew Thorin lower. The magic was still pouring off his body, sinking into the bed and curling, warm, around Thorin’s body.

The kiss was slow, a lingering press of lips that was more of a greeting than anything else.  Bilbo was the first to break it, and he pressed back against the pillow when he did so he could see Thorin more easily. The hobbit’s hand slid from the back of his head to cup his cheek, and this time it was Bilbo’s thumb that was rubbing his lip.

“I didn’t dare to think,” he started, his voice soft and sweet. Thorin pressed closer, encouraging him to draw nearer. His body tingled everywhere they touched, and his skin felt as if it was on fire.

“I love you,” Thorin blurted ungracefully, he only caught a glimpse of the delight in Bilbo’s eyes before he was pressing another, hungry, kiss to the hobbit’s lips. The hand was back in his hair, pulling, and Bilbo was clinging to him, rolling his hips and nearly mewling as Thorin rocked in return.

The door to his chamber shook with a knock. Thorin stilled and remained frozen over Bilbo who tilted his head towards the door with an utterly incredulous expression.

The knock echoed again. Thorin pushed up and away from Bilbo with a string of khuzdul that made the hobbit’s eyes widened. He climbed off the bed as yet another knock echoed around the room. He shoved his robe on, pulled his hair over his shoulders to block his neck from view and put on a carefully blank expression to keep from scaring who ever was at the door with his glare.

He positioned his body so that he blocked the bed from view and opened the door to see a timid guard. He had his head respectfully lowered. “The King has requested you  and your intended’s presence at a breakfast picnic in the village garden. Your siblings will also be in attendance.”

Thorin remained still as he processed that. His chest did a complicated thing as his thoughts went in two different directions. Excitement that his father would want to spend a breakfast with him and his betrothed, and utter annoyance at having to leave bed.

He had no choice of course. His annoyance would have to wait until later. “Tell him I will be in attendance. What time?”

“They will meet in twenty minutes, highness.”

-[]-[]-[]-

The garden was beautiful. It was lush with life of all kinds. Plants in every shade of green and flowers from distant lands. It filled the air with a sweet perfume that the heart of Bilbo adored.

It was the hobbit in him. Something deep that could never be changed.

Right now Bilbo watched from the back of the cleared area with Ori and Frerin as Thorin chose a spot for their picnic. Dís was frowning with discomfort and rocking back and forth on her heels. Dwalin, and another guard who Bilbo didn’t know the name of, were looking at the woods with frowns. The king’s guards were standing near the back while Thraín watched his son and daughter with an amused smile.

Bilbo watched his intended for a moment longer before directing his eyes back to Dwalin and the guard. He was making a motion in iglishmek and the king’s guard joined them.

They drew everyone else's attention.

“Dwalin? What is it?” Thorin stood up slowly and placed himself in front of his sister. Dís glared and propped her hand on her hip. Thorin ignored it.

Bilbo’s hair stood on end. His skin started to crawl and he had to suck in a sharp breath to stop himself from summoning any magic. He could feel it surging to life in his blood, pounding and urging him to release it.

And then he felt as if he’d run straight into a brick wall. The breath was knocked out of his body and he found himself being flung through the air into a tree. His back hit the bark with a painful crack that knocked all the air out of his lungs. His vision swam and he had to blink several times to realize he was the only one that had been blasted. Shouts were filling the air and the guards were running forward to do something he couldn’t really see.

“Bilbo,” a hand was on his face, slapping his cheek in an effort to rouse him. He blinked, trying to see clearly, and Ori hefted him up. “Bilbo!” His exclamation grew more frantic.

“House of Durin!” A terrible voice bellowed to the air as Ori fully halled Bilbo upright. “I am coming for what is mine!” Green, crackling light filled the garden along with a terrible moaning noise as the trees bent towards the ground. They cracked along their trunks, unwilling to bend but forced to do so. Whoever the wizard was, he had no care for growing things.

The trees, forced into a horrible shape, thrashed out with their limbs, attacking the royal family.

Bilbo finally found his legs. He shot forward as Dwalin and the other guards hacked at the trees. His hand was up in the air, magic pouring before he’d taken two steps. The tree nearest to the king straightened, its limbs shooting upwards. He focused on the one near Thorin next, making it delve into the dirt instead of tangling itself around his dwarf. “A fortnight will spell the doom of you all, less I am given my due.”

And then the trees were snapping back into position, broken and ruined. Bilbo, his heart bleeding with hurt, ignored the call of his hobbit instincts telling him to mend such ancient and innocent trees, went straight to Thorin’s side.

The prince had a nasty cut along his cheek that rose to dangerously near his jaw, and the sleeve of his tunic was all but torn off. Bilbo grabbed his arms and forced him to face him so he could look at him better, but Thorin was not looking at him.

Dís cry of pain shook the air.

Bilbo whipped around to see the prince on the ground, curled over her heavily pregnant stomach and panting. Her hand was clutching her side, and blood was leaking between her fingers and the ripped fabric of her dress.

He stepped towards her without any idea what to do other than help. He slipped to her side, vaguely aware of Thorin moving in behind him, and Frerin stumbling towards the sounds of his twin.

Dís cried out in pain, her pale face drawn and tight. The red blood on her stomach was a startling contrast to the pale blue of her dress and the near white of her skin. Bilbo moved her hand gently, stunned by how severe the wound was.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said behind him, and Bilbo had never heard so much pain in his voice. He moved a bit of the fabric back and shuddered at how deep it was. He stared at it, trying to conjure up a spell in his mind that would aid such things.

He couldn’t think of any.

“Sod it.” He finally muttered and just thrust both hands over the wound. He thought firmly of what the insides should look like, thanks to a horribly detailed anatomy book that Ori had rented when he wanted to become better at drawing, and just pushed it where it all belonged. Dís coughed and shuddered beneath him, clenching her jaw against what had to be a lot of pain. Thorin sank to the ground and put her head in his laps. His fingers tangled in her hair and he combed it soothingly while Bilbo worked.

He thought of the skin next, and imagined re-weaving it back together like a piece of fabric. It worked well enough, and the wound closed over itself. He left his hands on her stomach, focusing on feeling the life of her child. His eyes slipped closed as he went deeper, nearly entering a trance before he felt the second heartbeat.

“Bilbo?” Thorin’s hand landed on his, and he realized the dwarf had called his name several times.

“She’s well, the baby is fine.” He answered. He opened his eyes and looked down at Dís who had tears in her eyes. He felt wobbly. He’d used far more energy than he’d intended to, but it was worth it for the well being of-

Two hands landed on his shoulder and hauled him away from Dís and Thorin. “What,” a devistatingly cold voice asked, “is the meaning of this magic?”


	16. Chapter 16

Chaos was far too mild a word.

Bilbo had flown through the air, into a tree, and fallen down with a pained shout as a familiar voice bellowed at them. He’d barely heard what was said as the trees cracked to life. They were not as fluid as Bilbo’s had been, and they seemed to move against their will. The movements were harsh and jerky, and far more violent. They lashed out hatefully and cries of pain echoed in the air.

Thorin had tried to rush forward but had found it utterly impossible.

And then they had simply stopped. They snapped back to their proper form, and Bilbo was flying towards him with panicked eyes. He glimpsed at his chosen before a whimper caught his attention. He turned his eyes down and to the left, and felt his breath catch and his heart simply stop.

Dís was curled up in a pained ball with her hand wrapped around as much of her stomach as she could hold. Blood coated her hand and stained her ripped dress. Bilbo grabbed his arms and forced him to face him, presumably to inspect his wounds, but Thorin couldn’t tear his eyes away from his bleeding sister.

Dís cry of pain shook the air and Thorin had no air. Panic, raw and wild, gripped his chest and he shook violently. Blood seemed to be everywhere, even as his intended spun to face her. She was wounded terribly, and surely could not survive-the baby would be lost. The tiny joy they had so long been waiting, his nephew or niece… His thoughts wouldn’t form past the fear gripping him and the terror of losing his sister and or her child.

Then Bilbo was at her side, moving the hand to better see the wound and a strange stillness stole over him.  He managed to exhale, and move behind Bilbo. Frerin stumbled towards them before Ori caught his hand and led him towards them.  

Dís cried out in pain again, her pale face drawn and tight. “Bilbo,” Thorin murmured, unsure what he was asking. He just needed his hobbit to make it better.

He felt like a child. He felt as he had when he’d been freed from the niche and seen the dwarves taking his mother away. He’d pleaded with his father at that time, but the dwarf king had been unable to make it better.

“Sod it.” Bilbo muttered suddenly, before thrusting both hands on top of the wound.

Dís coughed and shuddered beneath his hands, clenching her jaw against pain. Her head thrashed against the grass and Thorin sank to the ground. He gently put her head in his laps as he would when she got a headache and requested a massage. His fingers tangled in her hair and he combed it soothingly while Bilbo worked.

Dís stared at him with hazy eyes, gasping in deeper breaths as Bilbo worked. The hobbit adjusted his stance after a moment and Thorin caught a glimpse of a closed wound before his eyes slipped closed. He started to murmur in another language- Thorin was uncertain what it was- and he glowed with a hundred different colors. It was gold at its base, but with every breath it seemed to shift to become one with the nature around him.

“Bilbo?” the hobbit made no response, so he tried again. “Bilbo?”

Still nothing. Frerin sank by his side and took one of Dís’ hands in his own shaking one. He had tears on his scarred cheeks, and Thorin felt his heart tremble.

“Bilbo,” he reached out and touched his intended’s hand, and Bilbo started. His eyes slipped open and he met Thorin’s gaze with wonder.

“She’s well, the baby is fine.” Bilbo answered as he looked down at Dís. His glow was fading away, tendrils of it dissolving into Dís’ skin. He missed it with a deep ache and had to repress the urge to reach forward and wrap his own hand in the fading light.

“What,” a voice he had known since birth, but barely knew in its anger, asked “is the meaning of this magic?” The last world was growled, and then Bilbo was jerked up and away. Dís gasped in shock while Thorin freed his hands from her hair. She shuddered in shock as Bilbo was dragged back into one of the king’s guards hold. Thorin moved Dís to Frerin’s lap and shot up as well.

“Ada! Unhand him!”

“You knew!” The words were snarled in a manner that Thorin had never heard. Thrain’s face was contorted in rage, his eyes furious and narrowed with hate. Thorin did not recognize him. A cold numbness was spreading through his limbs as Bilbo was dragged further away. Dwalin had stopped searching the trees and was moving towards the guard with a determined expression.

“Let him go. He is my intended and is under my protection. He has done no harm, nor is he a citizen of Erebor. You have no right to detain him.” Thorin growled right back at his father. He forced himself to focus on his father and not his hobbit. Bilbo was extremely pale and swaying in the soldier’s hold. He barely looked like he could hold himself up. He should not have used so much of his energy or magic. He had to ready himself to flee.

“He is a sorcerer and a danger to us all!”

“He is my betrothed and has saved my sister.” Thorin stepped closer to his father, standing tall and straight.

“Betrothed? You have decided to wed this magic-wielder?” Thrain spoke as if Bilbo was the most disgusting thing imaginable, and it made Thorin’s hackles rise to hear the hobbit spoken of in such a manner. His heart was hammering with alarm at how events were unfolding. He had to protect him.

“Yes, as I have always intended. Now release him.”

“You do not give me orders, Thorin. Do not make such a mistake. Take him away.”

“He saved Dís’ life-your grandchild’s life!”

“Ada!” Dís cried out suddenly, loud and keening, “Frerin!” Thrain’s attention wavered for a moment, flicking to his daughter. Dwalin reached Bilbo and was pushed back by two other guards. Ori was right behind him, fighting to get to Bilbo who was limp in the hold of the guards, nearly unconscious. Thorin had to fist his hands in his tunic to keep from swinging out at his own father.

When had life become so skewed?

“Namad?” Frerin clung to Dís’ hand with wide eyes. “What-”

“I’m-” Dís gasped again, curling in on herself. “the child!”

“What did you do!” Thrain demanded with a whirl of cloak. He stepped towards Bilbo and grabbed his chin before jerking it up. Bilbo’s eyes were heavily lidded, barely seeing. His brow furrowed and his eyes struggled to focus. Thorin stepped towards him but he was stopped by yet another guard. He growled and tried to jerk free but he was well caught.

“The child…” Bilbo murmured in a thick voice, “is coming.” He blinked up and tried to focus. “Majesty… Take her to healers.” He shuddered and then slumped, unconscious.

“Take him to the dungeons. Prepare him to burn tomorrow.”

Thorin wrenched free with a roar, dislocating his shoulder and aggravating the wound in his arm further. He rushed towards Bilbo who was being dragged away as Ori made a truly valiant effort to break through the guards to Bilbo.

“No!”

Bilbo was transferred to one Guard’s hold, as he was unconscious, and the other one focused on subduing Ori. He pushed him to the ground as Thorin was also shoved from behind. Something heavy hit the back of his head and his vision blacked out.

-[]-[]-[]-

Absolutely everything ached in a throbbing, nasty way. He could hear voices distantly and some sort of commotion with them, but he couldn’t really make them out. He was also far too pained to be bothered with it.

He rolled onto his side and pushed up on a wobbly arm while his other hand clutched at his aching belly. His mouth was cottony and dry, and his throat felt like someone had cut it.

He needed water and food, and several hours more of sleep. He’d extended himself far too much yesterday.

He blinked several times at the stone wall in front of his eyes before he managed to make sense of it, and then he just found himself frowning in confusion. There were metal bars in the wall in front of him.

A prison?

“Good, you’re awake. Would have been awkward to do this with you unconscious and everything.” A burly dwarf stepped into his field of vision and jiggled at something with the door. A section of the bars opened up and he stepped inside, large and invasive.

Bilbo moved his legs and made to stand, only to realize he was chained to the wall. Panic rose in his chest and stole his breath. Why was he in prison? Where was everyone else? Was Dís okay? Thorin?

What had happened?

“Up, traitor” The jailor huffed. He grabbed Bilbo by the arms and hauled him upright. His hands were too firm in their grip and he nearly toppled Bilbo over with how hard he jerked him up. He rammed into the armored chest and saw stars as a gasp left his lips.

“Steady,” the jailor barked with a shake. Bilbo closed his eyes and fought off a wave of nausea.

“What-”

“You have no right to speak. You have been sentenced to death for betrayal and wilful performance of magic.” His hands were cuffed behind his back.

“Then why shouldn’t I speak?” He felt drunk. His limbs hardly worked and every movement was wobbly. Fear was oddly absent, and the panic had faded away with the appearance of the guard.

He had revealed himself to the king because Dis had been crying in pain and fright. The child was alive and well, as was Thorin. Thorin who had tried to defy his father to keep Bilbo safe.

He'd called him  _betrothed._ That hadn't been expected... Then again, none of it had been. He'd been utterly useless after the healing. It was tricky, healing magic, and always required a good deal of recovery. Laughter and loved helped to revitalize him, but that hardly seemed likely. He'd simply have to content himself with the memory of Thorin saying that he was the Prince's betrothed.

“You will not-”

“Or what? I’m apparently burning. How is the princess?”

“Silence-”

“Tell him.” Another guard appeared outside of the jail cell while the jailer led him out. “He has a right to be aware.” Bilbo vaguely recognized him as one of the guards that had been in the garden when they were attacked.

“She has given birth to a son this very morning. Your attempts failed.” Bilbo closed his eyes and let out a breath. Relief surged through him and left him nearly limp. “The prince has been confined to his chambers and will not be at the proceedings. The brothers Ri have been banished from Erebor.”

They were alive then. He tried to keep standing but it was difficult. He was exhausted. It felt like his body was shutting down.

He was dragged down the corridor until he was outside. He didn’t really notice the trip, he felt oddly outside of the situation. He was barely aware of his moving feet, and his mind wouldn’t quite work properly. He couldn’t make any sense of what was occurring. It felt unreal that there was no trial, and that by sentenced he meant killed  _now_.

The sun was bright and warm, a welcome change to the damp coolness of the mountain. He tilted his head towards her rays and soaked them in. He was jostled around and found himself deposited on a pile of dry sticks that were surrounding a metal pole.

It was a stake. The one he was supposed to be burned at. It didn’t really mean anything to him. It didn’t seem like his quickly approaching doom.

He was tied to it and the chain that was connected to the manacles around his wrist was hooked to the top of the pole so his hands were over his head. His feet were also secured to the pole.

The executioner was right at the edge of the kindling and logs with a torch. He was lowering it to the wood with a blank face.

Bilbo’s blood started to pound and his vision swam. He felt his skin vibrate with magic that was too drained to do anything. Shouts were rising up from somewhere behind him, and crashes along with them, but he couldn’t focus on it past the roaring that was rising in his ears. He focused frantically on the magic that was faded and drained, willing it to regenerate and fill him up. He closed his eyes, begging it to come while his feet shuffled against the wood he was standing on. It was thin and dry, ready to burn quickly and hotly.

It would kill him slowly and horribly painfully. He would burn, suffocate, and pass out from the pain. Then he would wake up again only to be in worse pain while his lungs melted. It would be torturous and slow. The shouts around him grew louder and more chaotic. One voice rose above the shouts and the crackle of wood and fire.

“Stay this madness!” Bilbo forced his head up and blinked in shocked as grey blur ran towards him.

Hope flooded his veins.


	17. Chapter 17

The fire was nearing, but Bilbo hardly saw it. His eyes were locked on the quickly approaching figure. The one person he had not expected to see, and his very oldest friend. The age face had mentored him since he was an infant, and helped through some of his most difficult moments.

It was Gandalf who had taught him how to feel his magic. Gandalf who had taught him how to wield it and control it. Gandalf who had been more than a teacher and closer than a father.

How could he be here? How had he known? He was supposed to be in Orthanc, at a council.

He was so tired. He felt as though he had been up for days instead of the hour that he had actually been up.

It was hard to think past the exhaustion. His throat ached and he longed desperately for water. If he had any energy he’d conjure up a cup…

“Stay this madness!” Gandalf bellowed the words out with a power that Bilbo had always envied and now cherished. He pushed forward, straining against his bonds as the wizard approached. He seemed larger than ever, and the shadows around him grew and cracked, buzzing with power and might.

The guards around the stake he was tied to looked at each other uncertainly. They were clearly smart enough not to actually cross a wizard.

Though, Bilbo wouldn’t have crossed him right now. He’d never seen him so furious.

“Gandalf,” he breathed out, his voice cracking around the word somewhat uselessly. The wizard’s gaze flickered over him, taking in his state and frowning at what he saw. Bilbo wondered what he looked like. His clothing was ripped, probably from hitting the tree, and he knew he was at least a little bloody. From Dis, Thorin, and himself.

Thorin? Where was the prince? Was he alright? The last thing he recalled was seeing Thorin hit over the head by a guard.

“Who dares to do this? Where is the king?”

“I am here.” The call came from somewhere behind Bilbo. He had to crane his neck to the right and tilt it back painfully to see where he was. He finally managed to locate the king on a balcony like terrace on the mountain. The king stood on it with guards on either side, distant and cold. He was dressed in full regalia and shone against the grey of the mountain. He was too far away to see properly, but Bilbo imagined he could see fear in his eyes even from such a distance.

It hurt, because he hadn’t done anything to earn such a look. He’d tried time and time again to save the royal family. Eru help him, he loved Thorin. He would marry the dwarf if he had a chance. For the love of Yavanna, Thrain had been standing there while Bilbo was attacked by Saruman!

“What do you mean by this? He is not yours to harm!” Gandalf called out, his voice booming through the entire area.

“He had brought magic into Erebor. For such a crime, death is his sentence.” Thrain inclined his head. “Such is the way it has been for over a hundred years.”

“He was not in Erebor when the crime was committed. This hobbit is mine. You have not harmed me, and you will not harm him. Do not make of me an enemy, Thrain.”

“I will not risk my family to him. I will not risk my son.”

Gandalf laughed, a harsh sound. He was at the foot of the pile of wood and Bilbo almost imagined he could feel the wizard’s warmth. “Where is the son you would protect?” Gandalf leaned heavily on his staff and glared up at Thrain. “The curse will come in a fortnight as Saruman declared. You will need what aid you can find. Bilbo has great power for nature, and it would be wise to keep him on your side” He straightened up slowly and held Thrain’s gaze as he lifted his staff up in the air. He hit the ground with it and blue light surrounded everything. Bilbo was wrapped in the warm light, and he let his eyes slip close in sleep.

It would be okay.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin could not recall ever being so angry. It was a burning thing in the pit of his stomach that made everything else hard to focus on. His skin tingled, his blood boiled, and each breath ached deep in his chest.

Nothing was relieving it.

For the last three days he’d been storming around his chambers (and his father had _locked_ him in his room as though he were a misbehaving dwarfling!) trying to relieve the stress and tension.

Dwalin had fought with him for several hours, but it hadn’t helped. He had raged against the wall and yelled with all his might. While it had been nice to lose his composure, it wasn’t helpful.

He had been betrayed on the most basic level. His father had ordered him to be hit, then bound and locked into his room. The healer had kept him sedated until the next evening. His father had tried to burn his betrothed while he was unconscious. He had not intended on allowing Thorin even the chance of defending Bilbo.

He could not recall ever hating his father. Now there didn’t seem to be any other words for his feelings.

And he was still on house arrest.

Gandalf had escaped, taking Bilbo with him in a glow of brilliant light. Dís now had a son who she had named Fíli, and he had not even had the chance to see his nephew. There had been two executions in the days since Bilbo escaped. The king was going _mad_.

“Dwalin!” He barked the word out, hardly recognizing his own voice, and deposited his sword back on it’s rack. His guard and friend shuffled into the inner chamber with a scowl. He didn’t wait for the dwarf to speak. “Go to Frerin and send him to the king. See if he can-”

“Again?” Thorin glared and turned his back. He glared at the fire and stood straight enough to hurt his back. “Very well, sire.” Dwalin walked out of the room and locked the door behind himself. Thorin continued to glare at the fire, slipping into thought.

He had to break free, the not knowing was driving him to distraction. He needed to see that his sister was safe, to meet his nephew and hold him in his arms. He needed to hear rumors about Bilbo and see if they held any truth.

The sound of his door once again opening drew his attention. He turned on his heel with a glare, intending on telling Dwalin that he would actually send him to the stocks (a pointless threat) if he didn’t follow the simple order.

There was no one there. The door was simply hanging open. A thought flitted through his mind about freedom, but it was pointless. The outer chamber was locked as well, and there were several guards patrolling his hall.

He huffed out an irritated sigh and crossed the stone floor to the door. He pushed it shut and locked it from inside. He leaned his head against it for a moment and exhaled slowly, his anger transforming into sadness. He went in between waves of anguish and rage.

He thumped the door once with his forehead to regather himself and straightened up. He turned on his heel again, intent on taking back up the book on Shire customs he had. It had been a gift from Dís.

Thorin stopped breathing-not intentionally, but the shock of what he saw standing in front of him drove the air from his lungs. Bilbo… Bilbo was there. He was standing in the middle of the room with a small, timid, shy grin and dancing eyes. The same smile he had seen hundreds of times, that he adored and cherished and had taken for granted when it was his. He was there, bronze curls, blue eyes, soft skin, and faint glow.

Bilbo was there.

Thorin took a step forward, almost unconsciously and Bilbo smiled. His hand slipped into his pocket to deposit something, but Thorin took no notice of that fact. He took another step forward, and then he was across the room and pulling Bilbo into his arms. He pushed himself as close to Bilbo as possible in a fierce embrace. He wanted to laugh, or shout, or something. He bent his head instead and mouthed at Bilbo’s neck, muffling any potential outcries into the hobbit’s neck.

Bilbo was in his arms, pressed as close as he could be and Thorin could feel everything. Every line, every hard and soft plane, Bilbo’s arms around his own chest and the hobbit’s shuddery breath as he pressed all the closer.

“How,” he finally managed around a lungful of Bilbo’s scent, “how are you here?”

“Well, you should never leave a wizard out of your equations.” He laughed and slid his arms up and down Thorin’s back in a soothing motion. “Have you been in here the entire time?”

“My father locked me away-”

“After he made sure you didn’t wake up. I heard Dwalin discussing that with Frerin.”  He pushed Thorin back enough to see him. “How long do we have until he comes back?”

“Hours. I am afraid that I have not been the best of company.” Bilbo smiled and brought a hand up to his cheek to tangle in the hair beside his beard.

“I know. Gandalf practically kicked me out of his house. He has Dori, Nori, and Ori to keep him company currently. He agrees with me that the curse is going to be instigated in less than two weeks. I’m going to remain in Erebor, hidden.” The smile disappeared entirely. “I will not stand by to watch you all die by magic.”

“Have you been here the entire time?” Bilbo shook his head.

“No. I will be though.” He patted his pocket. “Gandalf gave me a trinket to get around.” Thorin found his hand cupping Bilbo’s cheek, his thumb stroking the skin beneath the hobbit’s eye.

“You snuck into save a king that would have seen you burned?”

Bilbo’s eyes turned soft and he wrapped his arm around Thorin’s neck to bring his head closer. “Not for the king. For you? For Frerin, Dís, and now Fíli? Yes.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Nor can I.” Bilbo frowned instantly and stepped back, out of Thorin’s embrace.

“What?”

“He has locked me away. I suspect he imagines he is punishing me for declaring you my betrothed. He has not even met with me to discuss the fact that I knew you had magic.”

“Well, that won’t work. I’ll sneak you out tonight to meet him… I’ll have to make cer-” Thorin, unable to resist, cut Bilbo off with a fierce kiss. It was too much to hold in. Far too much. Warmth surged around him and he found himself being pressed back onto the bed without even noticing that Bilbo was moving him. Bilbo pressed his hands onto Thorin’s chest and his tunic completely disappeared.

The hobbit climbed up beside him and straddled his waist with a slow smile and addictive glow. His eyes scanned Thorin’s revealed body, lighting on the scars that littered him and holding the gaze. His eyes flashed to Thorin’s before he bent down.

Bilbo’s curls brushed his abs and he could barely feel the hobbit’s soft lips against the scars on his chest. The anger, the fear that made him immobile, rose. It tingled in his fingertips and thrummed through his chest to merge with the  sensation of Bilbo’s lips.

He had never found himself especially attractive -none of the line of Durin were considered exceptionally attractive by dwarf standards- but Bilbo was murmuring into his skin and practically worshiping his scars with his lips. He didn’t feel worthy of the attention, or the love. Not after the way his father had tried to _burn_ Bilbo. It was his fault that the hobbit had so nearly been murdered. He’d been unable to protect the hobbit as Bilbo was always protecting him.

He was nearly trembling by the time his hands finally found its way to Bilbo’s hair. He curled it around the back of his head and drew him closer. He lifted him  up with his other hand and brought him nearer until their noses touched. Bilbo tilted his head and pressed his mouth to Thorin’s, hot and wet. His hand slid down the nape of Bilbo’s neck and the hobbit shuddered against him.

“I did not think I would get to see you again.” He didn’t make a response right away. He moved his waist lower and Thorin wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s waist as he touched their foreheads together.

“I would not have let that happen. I… Gandalf told me things, and I’m now certain I am not part of the curse. I mean to keep you safe, and stay by your side. After all, someone has to keep you lot well.” His mouth touched Thorin’s slow, soft, and lingering. The hobbit’s hands slid down to rest low on his hips, fingering the fabric there. He plucked at the leather of Thorin’s belt impatiently.

He let out a low chuckle. “Yes?”

“Off. Take it off.” Bilbo mumbled against his lips between nips.

“And here I thought hobbit’s had good manners. Were you never taught to say please?” Bilbo’s smaller fingers found the clasp to his belt and undid it with nimble fingers.

“I think, just for that, I will make you say please.”

“I would without hesitation, Mizim.” Thorin rumbled before pushing up and closer to Bilbo. “For unlike you, I was taught manners.”

Bilbo laughed, loud and bright as the sun. “Why you insolent troll!” He settled his weight down on to Thorin and laughed into the skin of his shoulder. “I’ll get you back for that.”

It was a promise, but not of revenge. It made something in his chest- something tight and tense- loosen and break free. Something he hadn’t even known existed. He was not only forgiven for how he had treated Bilbo when he’d learned the truth about him, but for his inability to save the hobbit when it had counted. As far as he could tell, the hobbit didn’t even think he needed forgiving.

It made him hold Bilbo closer. The hobbit was still laughing into his skin, each sound bright as life and endlessly wonderful. He would do anything to earn that laughter. It was such a clear, happy sound that it made all the anger, the darkness that seemed to have root in his very soul just dissipate.

He ran his fingers down the soft skin of Bilbo’s side, squeezing in lightly at the spot just below his ribs where he had a little of the typical hobbit fat.

The response was immediate and delightful. Bilbo giggled, wiggling away from Thorin's hands. His own hands came down to push at Thorin until he was perched above him with a giddy grin. Thorin kept his hands firmly in place and repeated the motion until the giggle was a full laugh and the hobbit’s eyes had lost all sign of their previous worry and weariness.

He didn’t want to leave the bed full of light and laughter to face the next day. The curse was coming, he could feel the worry of it in his skin, and there was precious little time before it.

But he had Bilbo back, safe and whole, and he would not let him go.


	18. Chapter 18

The room was quiet. He hadn’t expected it to be so quiet.

He had wanted to be _there_ for his sister. Frerin would have been by her side, but her husband was far away in Ered Luin. He had moved every assignment he could and was expected to be back in less than a month.

Regardless of his absence, Thorin had wanted to support his sister. To stand by her side and help where her husband could not. His father had taken that from him.

Dís was in the inner chamber, and Balin quietly led the way forward. He’d had nothing but a grin when Thorin had entered the room.

He still wasn’t sure how Bilbo managed to sneak him out. He was fairly certain Bilbo had learned how to lockpick from Nori. The loyal guards would have looked the other way, and Bilbo was invisible.

“Welcome, uncle!” Dís called out quietly.  She was laying on her bed with the covers pulled up to mid chest and her hands resting lightly on top of it. Frerin was sitting beside her, a goofy grin on his lips and a tiny bundle in his hands.

Thorin couldn’t quite remember how to breathe properly. Bilbo’s (invisible) hand tightened around his in reassurance and he found himself moving forward somewhat numbly. Dís was fairly near glowing, and she looked healthy. The deathly pallor was gone and there was no sign of blood. Satisfied with his sister, he let his gaze switch to Frerin and the green-cloth-wrapped dwarf in his arms.

His nephew. Fíli...

Fíli had golden hair, the same color as Dís' fair locks. His skin was fair like Dís’, but he had his father’s nose, though it looked decidedly better on the child. Fíli blinked twice and then opened his eyes, and Thorin found his breath catching in his throat. They were a pale blue framed in a light gray, piercing and beautiful. Already so alert. They looked up at Thorin curiously, studying him frankly.

He reached out a timid hand and gently touched the dwarfling’s soft hair. Fíli smacked his lips and a tiny arm swung out with a tiny hand that tried to grasp Thorin’s finger.

He was _tiny_. Thorin had not seen a dwarfling in years. He hadn’t thought he would be so small.

He was in love.

He had scarcely seen this baby boy, and already he loved him as fully as anything he had ever loved. It was an intense emotion, coupled with a fierce desire to keep the tiny life safe at any cost. There were no words to express the raw, intense emotion that surged through him.

And then Frerin passed the small boy to him. He weighed almost nothing in his arms, and the small hand flung through the air again to grab at the braid that marked him as courting Bilbo. Fíli clutched the hair with joyful abandon and held on tightly.

He had never felt such an instant and utterly consuming love. His blue eyes were filled with wonder, and Thorin knew with a startlingly certainty, that he would be this child’s slave for life. He would do anything for the dwarf.

Fíli opened and closed his mouth and then, to Thorin’s delight, he smiled with a small, happy gurgle.

Thorin smiled in return, unable to stop the ludicrous expression that was splitting his face. The door to the bedroom was clicked shut and barred as Thorin cuddled the baby closer, and then Bilbo was once again at his side. The hobbit wrapped his arm around Thorin’s waist, visible again, and brushed a finger down the fuzzy, soft, golden hair.

“Well, brother?” Dís asked quietly. He glanced up to see his sister with tears in her eyes and a tender smile on her lips. Frerin was beaming and sitting up straight rocking slightly.

“He has your eyes, namad.(sister)” He observed, still grinning like a loon. He dropped his gaze back to Fili who was now staring at Bilbo. “Well met, namad-inùdoy.(sister’s son)”

“May I?” Bilbo asked, holding his hand over the infant’s head. Dís hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

“If you would.”

Bilbo’s hand started to glow with golden strands of light and Fíli let out a peal of laughter at the sight. The hobbit’s magic floated down to wrap around Fíli as he murmured words in a lilting voice. After a moment, the light disappeared into his skin and Fíli smiled and grabbed at Bilbo’s hand. “A blessing. One that Gandalf taught me.”

“Thank you.” Thorin, with arms that suddenly felt like lead, passed his nephew back to Dís. It hurt to give him up. She accepted him with a large smile. Thorin pulled Bilbo in front of him and wrapped his arms around the hobbit. They couldn’t stay much longer, the guards would become suspicious and it would take a while to reach his chambers again.

This was merely a reprieve before the real battle.

-[]-[]-[]-

Gandalf’s ring was a miracle.

Bilbo had used it to go everywhere in the kingdom. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to get to Thorin at all, and he’d been able to do far more. He’d snuck the brothers Ri out to Gandalf, and found his way to the dwarf prince.

He’d even gotten to lead him to Fíli.

Right now, he was trying to decide what to do with his day. Thorin was still asleep, and Bilbo was perfectly happy to remain by the sleeping prince’s side. He’d woken up in a warm cocoon of arms and blankets. It had taken several minutes to pull himself out of the softness of sleep. When he had fully come to, he’d found himself laying next to Thorin.

The dwarf was sprawled on the bed, bare-chested and laying on his stomach. His head was turned towards Bilbo, and his right arm was draped over Bilbo’s side. His left arm was under the pillow, clutching a blade. The dwarf had put him on the side by the wall, making certain that he was between Bilbo and the door. Bilbo hadn’t asked, but he knew it was incase someone came in while they were sleeping. He was _not_ going to let Bilbo burn.

He felt marvelously safe.

And the view was quite nice as well. He could see all of Thorin’s lovely, back, the taut muscles of his arms and shoulders. His soft hair spilled over his skin and pillows, the silver locks catching the morning light. His face was soft with sleep, unguarded in his dreams. His lips were curled up slightly in a sleepy smile, and his lashes were long against his cheek.

Bilbo wanted to just stay and watch.

He loved the dwarf, of course, but he couldn’t stay in bed. He had too many things to do. The days were fading away, steadily. It had already been a week since he’d arrived.

Thorin had still not been let out of his room. Others were coming in now, and he was given paperwork to keep busy, but he was essentially imprisoned.

Bilbo had hung out as often as possible, but he was growing restless. They had very little of the time that Saruman had claimed was left until the curse kicked in. Bilbo wasn’t certain how to describe it, but he could _feel_ it coming nearer. His skin was tingling and he felt like his hair was standing on end. He was weary everywhere he went, and constantly looking over his shoulder. He wanted to cast wards around Thorin, but he couldn’t think of any. Gandalf had never taught him a lot of protective spells. He mostly just acted out of instinct. He hadn’t invoked a single incantation any time Thorin had been harmed.

He wasn’t doing any spells. He’d drained himself severely when Dís was injured. He couldn’t risk being that empty again. He had been far too frivolous with his magic.

Bilbo pushed himself free from Thorin’s hold slowly. The dwarf twitched at his loss and his now hobbit-less arm and started to pat at the empty bed. Bilbo watched him for a moment before pushing himself away. He drew a tunic on as quietly as possible, smiling when he heard Thorin grumbling in his sleep. He continued with his morning routine, quietly, and tried to ignore the warning in his blood.

The ring was cool, as always, against his skin and slipped on with no trouble. The world around him turned wispy and duller. It lost color and intensity. He made his way out of the room without making any noise. Three guards were standing outside Thorin’s chambers, as always, and Bilbo slipped by.

That was one thing he hadn’t really thought about when he’d said ‘yes’ to Thorin. The dwarf was _constantly_ watched. Others were always around. There was never a moment when they were truly alone. That was the price of royalty.

He made it down three halls to the main area of the city. Paths that led all over could be seen from his bridge, and he surveyed them with a frown.

Something didn’t feel quite right. He couldn’t place quite what it was, but he felt it in the air. Energy thrummed through his veins, and he found himself twitching where he stood.

He wanted to track down the curse’s source.

He knew the entire story. He had shared his history with Thorin-all of it- and Thorin had done the same in return. It had been a long, emotional night, but he had several ideas where to look now. He had never been to the lowest level guard room. The office that the attack had happened in had been locked up so that none but the royal family could enter.

Luckily, Bilbo was sharing a room with one of the royal family.

He was going to go to the niche that Thorin had been locked in and investigate. If he could figure out what the trigger for the curse was, he could destroy it. It wasn’t much, but it was all that he had to go off of.

The walk down was long, and the tunnel that Thorin, his siblings, and his mother had originally taken had been permanently cut off. The office itself was chilly.

He stepped into it slowly, noting the distinct lack of guards. He would have thought that Thrain would have the room guarded constantly.

The air was heavy with age, and Bilbo had to murmur a clearing spell to get rid of some of the dust. He wrapped his cloak (technically one of Thorin’s) a little closer and stepped further into the room. There was a desk against the right wall, and an open passage on the left. He stood still for a moment and swallowed thickly. His heart was racing and he felt a little dizzy. The atmosphere in the room was heavy and it made Bilbo’s stomach feel wretched.

The curse could be _felt_. No matter the room had been locked off. Bilbo had no seer in him, but he didn’t need the ability to tell prophecies or see the future to know that something _terrible_ had happened here. It took him several breaths to make himself go any further.

The wall that they had hidden in would be across from the door, according to Thorin’s memories. He crossed the room quickly, not looking where he stepped and forcing his breath to come in even inhales. The wall looked solid enough, but he knew where to press. His fingers slid along the stone before pressing against a hidden button. A faint click echoed in the room and he pushed the tile aside.

He couldn’t move for a long moment.

This was where they had hidden. Where Thorin had held his baby brother and listened, helplessly, while his mother was murdered. Five dwarf children had hidden in here while magic was used to achieve a dark creature’s evil ends.

It was impossible to describe the hate he felt for Saruman.

The niche was dark, and Bilbo couldn’t see anything inside it. He shifted his feet and reached into his pocket to pull out a small glass ball. He gripped it in his hands and focused on the magic thrumming in his very blood. It rose up easily-he was already tense- and the ball flooded with golden light. He set it on the ground and rolled it forward to light the tiny chamber. There was nothing at first, and then a glint caught Bilbo’s eyes. He squatted lower to see what it was, and realized that whatever the ball was lighting up was smooth. It reflected the magical light with a rainbow of colors. For a moment, Bilbo couldn’t do anything but stare at the shimmering lights. It even seemed to grow brighter the longer he looked. Finally he knelt down on the ground and reached into the niche to retrieve his ball and the shimmering item.

It was a stone.

He didn’t recognize the gem type. It was like an opal in that it had multiple colors, but it was also transparent. It was a cut stone, well polished and looked as though it had been hung on a chain at some point.

He turned it over in his hands, noting that it was warm, and suddenly froze. He wasn’t sure why for a long moment, then he realized that he heard footsteps. He spun on the spot, his heart hammering, and felt his breath leave his body in a whoosh.

Thorin was in the doorway. He was wearing his sleeping breeches, and had a strange look on his face. He wasn’t looking at Bilbo, but at the open niche. His eyes were heavily hooded, but his jaw was clenched. Like he wasn’t able to decide if he wanted to be asleep or angry.  His arms hung limply by his sides, but his hands were fisted. His hair was loose from braids or bindings save for Bilbo’s courtship braid. He was barefooted and his stance was stiff.

Bilbo blinked and straightened. He gripped the stone more tightly and took a half step forward.“Thorin?” he asked quietly. His dwarf jerked but didn’t move otherwise. “Are you alright? How did you get out?”

“Bilbo,” Thorin’s voice was oddly bland. His shoulders stiffened and his heavily hooded eyes turned to Bilbo. They stared at him for a moment before trailing down his body and lighting on the stone in his hands. Thorin’s body jerked and he stepped forward.

“The Arkenstone.” He murmured. He went to Bilbo and brushed his fingers along the back of Bilbo’s hand before laying his hand on top of the stone.

That was when Bilbo realized he had never taken off the ring.


	19. Chapter 19

Bilbo took two quick steps back, his heart pounding and his eye twitching. His entire body was tense and he felt his breath come in frightened gasps. Thorin took a step towards him, still with the strange expression.

He knew where Bilbo was. He was wearing a ring that made him invisible, and the dwarf knew where he was.

Bilbo stepped backed farther and his back hit the wall. He gasped in surprise and Thorin took the final step to reach him. The dwarf’s left hand settled on his upper arm before sliding down and grasping his hand. Thorin’s thicker fingers gripped his hand and found the ring. They tugged the golden band down, and off Bilbo’s finger and the world settled back into the right shape and color.

He couldn’t get any air in his lungs. He felt _terrified_ and finally understood why. Thorin, his betrothed and lover was in front of him. He was sleep warm, partially dressed, and had his hair down. He should have been nothing but tempting in his current state. His right hand was cupped against Bilbo’s left hand and the stone, and his right hand was slipping into Bilbo’s pocket to deposit the ring. The front of his body was nearly brushing against Bilbo’s body, and his face was near enough that he could count each of the dwarf’s eyelashes.

Thorin’s skin, which was always pale but warm and smooth, was glowing a faint green.

“Thorin,” Bilbo gasped, his heart tripping over itself and skittering off rhythm. He couldn’t press any further against the wall and he could feel his magic rising up to press against his skin. ‘Protect yourself!’ it seemed to shout. Bilbo steadfastly ignored it and tightened his grip on the strange stone.

Thorin felt like the rest of the cursed room.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said again, his voice toneless and void of everything that Bilbo loved in his speech. “Give me the stone.” Bilbo couldn’t even find the ability to shake his head. He couldn’t seem to move from shock. They were supposed to have another three days before the fortnight was up.

“No,” he wasn’t certain he actually spoke, or if it was just an exhale of air and a fervent wish. Thorin’s entire body went rigid in response, and then Bilbo found that both his hands were captured in one of Thorin’s far larger ones.

The utter _indifference_ on Thorin’s face raised goosebumps all over Bilbo's skin. He could feel the back of his neck prickling and he knew that he did not, under any circumstances, want Thorin to get that stone. He didn’t know why that was not a good thing, or what the stone even was, but he knew that Thorin was not himself. Saruman seemed to have complete control over him. Bilbo wasn’t even certain he was awake.

The dwarf moved Bilbo’s captured hands to the middle of his chest while he reached up to fiddle with the clasp to Bilbo’s cloak. He pressed against it for a moment and then his fingers trailed down, brushing over his buttons, his wrist, the tightly clenched stone, and then down to the clasp on his belt. It was one of Thorin’s, a complicated thing that had taken Bilbo a while to learn the trick of. The green glow grew all the brighter on his dwarf’s skin, and Thorin leaned closer. His eyes slipped shut and the dexterous fingers began to work at the latch so slowly that the noise of the metal clasp was deafening.

His breathing was rough and ragged, and his body felt like it was screaming out in fright. He still held the magic back, but he had to grit his jaw to do so.

He could not harm Thorin. He would protect the dwarf no matter what, even if he couldn’t protect himself.

He had to shock him to awareness. Something to bring Thorin forward enough that he could fight off the influence. What would surprise the wizard that was controlling him? Did he know about their relationship?

Thorin’s hand, having unclasped his belt, trailed back up his shirt to start undoing his buttons with calm purposefulness. His eyes were still closed and his face lax.

Well, it was what he had. If Saruman meant to use Thorin to violate him, then he would shock him with that.

Bilbo braced himself and then pushed back against the wall. He jumped a bit, getting his feet up into the air enough that he could wrap them around Thorin’s waist. The pressure on his hands loosened and he used that to push them at Thorin. He clutched onto the dwarf’s arm as well as he could and hauled himself up as Thorin’s eyes flew back open. He pressed his lips to Thorin’s in a heated kiss and took complete control of the kiss.

Thorin inhaled sharply in surprise and released Bilbo’s hands. One hand reached down to grab his bottom to help hold him up while the other flew to his cheek. Bilbo wrapped his free hand around Thorin’s shoulder to keep himself up, and hid the other hand between their chests. His magic broke free and he felt it glow warm all around them, wrapping Thorin in its light to keep the dark influence from getting him again.

His legs were tight around the dwarf by the time he finally pulled away from him. Thorin stared down at him, his eyes so very blue, and his skin pale and lined with gold. There was no green in sight, and his dwarf looked confused.

“Thorin,” he breathed out, his voice catching at the end. Thorin blinked and rubbed his thumb along Bilbo’s cheek.

“Why am I down here? I thought I dreamed-” He cut off abruptly and inhaled sharply. His chest quivered against Bilbo and his legs trembled. Bilbo almost dropped his own legs to the floor but the horror in Thorin’s eyes convinced him to stay right where he was.

“I think you were possessed.” He tightened his hold on Thorin as the dwarf made to break free, gasping in shock. “No! Stay here. It was not you. You didn’t hurt me regardless, and I could see you fighting it even in your sleep. We’re safe for now.” He swallowed and dropped his head to rest on Thorin’s shoulder. He released a shaky breath and felt his eyes fill as Thorin wrapped his arm around him. Another shaky breath and he managed to unwind his legs from Thorin. He pressed closer and tried to calm the magic whirling around them.

“I touched the stone, didn’t I?” Thorin’s tone held a resignation that Bilbo had never heard in it before. Bilbo nodded his head and lifted his head back up. Thorin’s lips were tugged down in a small frown and his eyes were sad with acceptance.

“What is it?”

“The prophecy. It’s starting.”

“Why?” Thorin gently pulled Bilbo’s hand from between their chest, holding onto the hobbit’s wrist and being careful not to touch the stone.

“Do you know what this is?” At the shake of Bilbo’s head he continued. “It is the Arkenstone. The greatest stone of my race. It is also known as the heart of the mountain. For over a hundred years it has been hidden in the vaults.” He exhaled, and then his voice took on the same dead quality it always did when he spoke about the curse. _“I curse your house for now until I have what I seek! Magic has robbed me of that which should be mine, and it shall be a blight on your house from now on. By magic, all your family will burn when the first bears that which was entrusted. When the heart meets with the heart of the line, desolation will come!”_

“I would be considered the heart of the line. The future king and heart of Erebor’s ruling future. I just touched the heart of the mountain. Two hearts have met.”

“Desolation will come.” Bilbo tightened his grip on the stone and thought about banishing it, but there was nothing to do. They had to prepare for a fight. “We have to tell your father.”

Thorin’s countenance instantly changed he stood straighter and his eyes flashed with distaste. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Thorin, he needs to know. They all do.”

“He will be told, but not by you. You will return to my chambers and stay there until I return to you.”

“Not likely. I’m not some damsel that I’ll just stand by.” Bilbo informed him with a huff. He returned the glare Thorin gave him. The dwarf was surrounded by a halo of golden light as they spoke. “You were _just_ possessed by Saruman or the curse. Do you seriously think I will leave you now?”

“I-” Thorin pressed closer and wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s waist. “I Would not lose you, Mizim.”

Bilbo laid his finger’s against Thorin’s cheek. Thorin who had forgiven him for lying, who trusted him enough to lay with him, who fought to protect him from burning, who didn’t flinch even though Bilbo’s fingers were shimmery with golden light. “I’ll wear the ring.”

And it was decided.

-[]-[]-[]-

He didn’t make it to his father. They stopped off to hide the Arkenstone-Bilbo handled it and bound it magically with an incantation that Gandalf had taught him to keep it from being summoned.

He went on up to the throne room while Bilbo went about taking care of the accursed stone. Thorin’s skin felt odd, tight almost. Something didn’t feel right, and he couldn’t place it. There were no guards in the outer hall and Thorin found himself drawing his sword before he pushed the doors to the grand throne room.

The air was utterly still as he entered. He made it a few feet before he could see what the problem was. Every dwarves were lining the back walls, soldiers, knights, guards, all the armed force just standing uncertainly. Thrain sat upon the throne with a glare fiercer than any Thorin had ever seen.

There was a thick, green cord wrapped around his chest that was nearly throbbing with power.

And a few feet in front of him were three tall figures. They were all grey haired, and wearing robes that were shimmering with every color. The one in the middle turned towards him slowly, and Thorin’s heart drew to an utter stop.

Saruman.

He had not seen the dark wizard since the night his mother died. He could feel the green fire on his skin and hear his mother’s pained scream in the air.

“Khazâd!” He bellowed, his voice holding a strength and steadiness he did not know he possessed. “Du Bekâr!” Thorin stepped forward with the other knights, guards, and soldiers in the room. Shouts filled the air and their weapons were raised to the air in flashes of metal. They stood still for a moment, and then charged forward as one.

They made it a few feet when Saruman brought his staff up and back down with a thud that echoed around the entire hall. Green light flashed bright, and they were flung back. They flew through the air as though they weighed nothing more than a rag doll, and they all clattered to the ground in a cacophony of metal on stone. He tried to struggle back up, without any air, but he didn’t even get his arm fully under himself before  large weight on his chest was pushing back down.

He couldn’t get his air back.

Saruman moved closer while he was down, the other two wizards moving in behind him. “There you are, Thorin Thrainson. You were smaller when last we met.” He glanced back at Thrain who was still bound to the throne. His gaze returned to Thorin with an expression that made the blood in his veins turn to ice. “You are the oldest, correct?” He doesn’t bother to do anything but glare with as much defiance as he can without air and blood trickling down his cheek. (When did he hit his head?)

“Do not dare, binhurm urkhas. (honorless demon)” Thrain growled out with a presence that Thorin had always admired. He sounded every bit a king, despite his state. It was the same thing he tried to imitate.

“You presume to tell me what I can do?” Saruman asked quietly. He smiled, showing his teeth, and the expression was somehow horribly wrong. It made Thorin physically ill.

He had just enough time to brace himself and exhale before the wizard tapped his staff against the ground and the pain hit.

Agony hit his body like a hammer and went blazing down every nerve, every inch of his skin until he was not aware of anything but the pain. Nothing hurt this much. Not breaking a bone, being stabbed, fever, or any other injury/illness he had ever hurt. His clothes felt like molten metal against his skin and his guts felt as though someone was twisting them around a knife. He could not even scream. There was no air in his lungs, and no air he could find. His mind felt like it was fraying as his vision tinted red around the edges.

The green faded away and the pain with it. His body twitched against the floor and he finally managed to drag in a shaky breath that made his chest burn. His skin ached and everything was entirely too sensitive. Even his clothes felt like a fire on his flesh.

Saruman just smiled, and at that moment Thorin realized he wasn’t dying.

He was being _toyed_ with.

They had been wrong, so horribly wrong. He didn’t intend to just burn them with dragon fire. He intended to burn them in a far darker manner. He intended to claim them with _madness_ and then burn them. He could see it in the wizard’s eyes. The rage and hate and the utter indifference making his breath once again whoosh out of his body.

It left with a scream the likes of which he had never before uttered. He had no room in his mind to feel ashamed for the way he was screaming because the pain that was once again flooding him made everything else unimportant. He could hear his father crying his name out distantly in a tone of anguish he had never heard his father use. It didn’t feel terribly important.

And then the doors to the grand hall were pushed open and the pain stalled. Frerin and Dwalin pushed the two doors open, Bilbo right behind them, and Thorin nearly wept. Everyone he loved in the world was coming, and they were all going to burn.

Saruman stopped the torture. His pale eyes  narrowed and his grin grew larger to better show his sharp teeth.

Bilbo rushed forward, his eyes a molten blend of green and blue. “Release him.” Gold danced along his skin, strands reaching into the air before coiling back around him. A few tendrils around his legs were trailing towards Thorin. He imagined the tingling warmth they put off and prayed to Mahal that he could heal enough to stab Saruman before Bilbo was harmed.


	20. Chapter 20

To be quite honest, Thorin wasn’t even certain how he was still conscious.

His head was throbbing in a way that made a concussion seem enjoyable, and his skin felt tender. Everywhere his clothing pressed against him felt like a blade. His chest felt like he had spent the last month coughing, each inhale sore and nearly impossible. He could hardly focus his vision, and there was a rushing noise in his ears.

Bilbo had dropped by his side and barely managed to run a hand down his arm before he was striding to the left, between the door and Saruman. He’d then raised his hands and started to blast at Saruman.

Words were being said by Bilbo or Saruman, maybe both, but Thorin’s head would not translate them. It was taking all of his focus to slide his hand under himself and push up with it. He managed to do so and pushed. There was a moment that his arm wobbled and his body spasmed, and then he was half up. He locked his arm in place and exhaled as quietly as he could. Saruman was still distracted (at least Thorin imagined he was since he hadn’t been hit yet) so he continued.

He turned around so that his face and body was facing the floor and tugged a leg under himself. Another breath and he started to move the other one. He pulled it forward and suddenly found himself able to take a deeper breath.

A quick glance down showed the reason why. A thin tendril of magic was wound around his leg, holding on and pulsing with light. He stared at it for a moment before using his newfound breath and forcing himself to stand fully.

The pain was terrible and immediate. His entire body cried out and he very nearly gasped. He managed to bite the noise off but it was a near thing.

It was nothing he couldn’t handle. He had a new standard for bearable pain now, unfortunately. If he survived today he would make an excellent fighter. He could probably lose a limb and it would still not hurt as much as the curse Saruman had used on him.

Thorin steeled himself and looked around. The two wizards standing with Saruman were watching the traitor and were completely unaware that Thorin had made it to his feet. Saruman was standing a few feet in front of them and was shooting green, crackling, magic at Bilbo who was standing his ground with blazing eyes and his own hand outstretched.

The magic was splitting around him like water parting around a rock in a stream.

“Why are you here, Baggins? You were meant for far greater things.” Saruman’s deep voice echoed around the room, seeming as ancient as earth itself. It made Thorin feel small again, and so angry.

He had no idea where his sword was.

“The king has tried to burn you. Yet still you fight for him? Do you know what it is to burn? You will not die quickly. It will take hours.” His smile turned lecherous as sweat poured off of Bilbo’s brow. “Perhaps I will show you that fate?”

Not for the king. Bilbo had murmured, his lips warm against Thorin’s throat. A promise. For you? For Frerin, Dís, and now Fíli?  He’d repeated the words later that night, and the night after. Yes.

Saruman was an ignorant fool.

“I will not let you have them.” Bilbo grit out. The other two wizards stepped forward and pointed their own staffs at Bilbo and he started to slide from the force of their combined onslaught. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, Thorin couldn’t even comprehend how he hadn’t already buckled under the pressure. Simply standing on defense was going to get him burned as well. Then there would be no hope for everyone else that Thorin loved. Bilbo needed to remember the basic strategy from their lessons.

His sword had been flung halfway across the room so he had no chance of reaching it unnoticed. He pulled his dagger, one Dwalin always made him wear, free and gripped it with numb fingers.. Another breath, and he moved forward slowly and stiffly. Each step was a fresh stab of pain.

He moved forward softly, using the method Bilbo had taught him. “Dwarves are too loud!” he had always complained. “You lot clomp around like stone giants.”

He couldn’t lift his feet up to clomp anyway.

The rest of the knights were blocked by a wall of shimmering green that he hadn’t noticed when he’d been attacked. Thrain was watching Bilbo being attacked with horror, and Dwalin was standing in front of Frerin.

He managed to get behind one of the two wizards and grab his shoulder. He then shoved the dagger up through his back, between his ribs. He waited a moment and then pulled the dagger away and released his hold on him. No longer supported, the wizard crumbled to the ground without making a sound, his heart finished. Thorin twisted on his heel as the other wizard realized what had happened. He brought his dagger up and around in a violent, hard slash. He struck the second wizard’s throat before he could turn his magic on Thorin. He dropped to the floor with a gurgle of blood and a thud that caught Saruman’s, and everyone else's, attention.

Bilbo was wavering on his feet. Thorin squared his shoulders and braced himself for what would probably lead to a painful death. It would offer a distraction and that was all he really needed. If Bilbo had a moment, he could win. Everyone else would be safe.

He drew himself to his full height as Saruman turned his body towards Thorin. Bilbo tried to keep firing at the wizard, but it was feeble and obvious that the hobbit needed the reprieve to catch his breath.

Thorin glared up at the wizard and ignored the call of his father. He took a decisive step forward and grit his teeth against the pain of the movement. “Zatâgrîf zu ruthûkh udu men Sanzueh.” (Take your hands from my chosen.) He growled lowly, watching as Saruman recognized the meaning.  He had been deep in their council before the betrayal. He knew khuzdul.

“This?” Saruman asked with maniacal laughter lacing his voice. “This hobbit is your chosen?” He laughed out loud with a disdain that made Thorin itch to strike him. He only had the dagger though, and couldn’t risk being hasty.

“My betrothed. He wears my braid and is defended by this kingdom.” He had no idea what he was saying, but it was distracting and that was really all he needed.

“Do you hear this, Thrain? Your own son has fallen under magic’s spell. It must bug you so to know that he has openly sought the soothing touch of what robbed you of your chosen.” The wizard turned his pale eyes on Thrain who fought against his bonds pointlessly. “I shall enjoy bringing an end to him first. He has robbed me of two companions but it will make no difference. There isn’t anyone here who can stand up to me.” His smile turned back onto Thorin. “And the curse is already taking effect, or can you not feel the exhaustion? Neither you or your kin will be able to fight against anyone. You will be nothing more than babes playing at war.”

Thorin’s arms felt heavier as the elderly wizard spoke. He nearly swayed with exhaustion. Saruman brought his staff up and aimed it at Thorin’s chest. He was too far to do anything with the dagger in his hand, and he wouldn’t risk throwing it in his current state and hitting his father or Bilbo.

He braced himself and held Saruman’s gaze. He would greet death with eyes wide open as a warrior should. He would go to Mandos’ halls without shame or fear.

“Then perhaps it is time you tested yourself against another.”

It was almost comical how every single head in the room, except Bilbo’s, snapped towards the new voice. Gandalf, looking old and tired, strode into the room with his own staff extended towards Saruman. His eyes were glowing an ancient blue, and Thorin could feel the icy hate in them.

Saruman took advantage of the distractions. He shot a beam of green at Thorin before he even knew what was happening, and he found himself once again flying through the air to the the steps in front of the throne. His head cracked against the stone and stars filled his vision.

But no supernatural pain.

“You have lost.” Gandalf stated. “The stone is out of your reach, hidden by me where it will cause no more harm. With your defeat I will undo the curse.”

“Then he will die!” Another blast of light, but still no pain. Thorin pushed himself up defiantly and glared at the wizard. Surprise flickered in Saruman’s grey eyes but it was gone before Thorin could really be sure of what he was seeing.

Gandalf strode closer and Saruman turned his gaze to the approaching wizard. Thorin staggered to his feet and tried not to sway. His vision was swimming with exhaustion. He had to take the chance to free his father though. He still had his dagger and it should cut through whatever cords had Thrain bound.

“You can not kill him, Saruman, you will not kill me.” Gandalf declared with a voice that shook the very floor they were standing on. His  staff lit blue and surrounded him in a shimmery bubble before Saruman blasted him with green magic. Thorin gave them another glance before continuing to basically stumble towards his father. Thrain’s eyes were trailing over him with horror.

Thorin ignored the look and brought the blade to Thrain’s arm, sawing at the green rope like substance. “Away!” Thrain mumbled, his voice odd. Thorin glanced at his father before focusing on the rope again. “Go, escape now. Leave me!”

Thorin didn’t bother with a response. He cut through the rope and switched to Thrain’s other arm. “I will not have you dying because of my pride!”

“Do be quiet, majesty.” A hand took the dagger from Thorin’s weakening grip while another hand settled on his back. Bilbo pressed against his side and sawed at the rope with energy that Thorin did not have.

A crack sounded behind them, with a muffled shout of pain. It wasn’t from Gandalf, and it took all of Thorin’s strength not to turn and see what had just happened.

“You have no power here!” Gandalf bellowed, and the room flooded with light as Bilbo broke through the rope. Thorin caught his father while Bilbo spun around to see what was happening. He slumped against the throne as his body lit with golden light and he shot it at whatever was going on behind them.

Thorin helped his father down a step and then another while the room seemed to grow even brighter.

“Your staff is broken, Saruman. With it your power is diminished.” The light flooding the room dissipated in an instant, and Thorin was finally able to see what had happened.

Saruman was stooped over, one hand on the ground to brace himself. His staff was at his feet in broken shards.

Thorin couldn’t do much more than gape. Gandalf had bested the wizard. Bilbo was  beaming even while he leaned against the throne to keep standing.

Dwalin was at his side suddenly and took Thrain from him. The king was staring at Gandalf unsurely. Thorin wavered on the spot for a moment before turning and limping to Bilbo. His side felt like there was a knife in it, and he was fairly certain that his leg had been wrenched during the earlier torture.

Gandalf was binding Saruman with blue light. He didn’t know what to do about that.

He grabbed hold of the arm of the throne and used it to haul himself up to Bilbo’s side before nearly slumping against the hobbit. Bilbo’s small arm wrapped around him and he pressed against his side.

“He did it.” The hobbit mumbled as his head lolled to the side and towards Thorin. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“What worked?” Thorin asked as he worked his way down from the throne with Bilbo. Saruman was completely bound and unconscious. Gandalf passed him off to Dwalin who led him from the room. The grey wizard’s gaze turned to them as they reached the floor.

“His plan.”

That had been a plan?

Gandalf’s eyes locked on him, scanning his body. Thorin ignored the gaze and headed towards his brother who was frowning in confusion. He needed to explain what had happened. He was probably terrified.

“I think I need to sit.” Bilbo managed after a moment. He looked at Thorin with a very unimpressed expression. “And you need a good healing.”

“Thorin.” Frerin said mildly, interrupting any reply he might have made with a hint of a smile tugging his lips up. “You do look _horrible_.”

“Well, I was just-” He cut himself off with a splutter and gaped at his now very much grinning brother. “I _look_ horrible?”

“Uglier than I remember at least.”

Frerin could see again?


	21. Chapter 21

Frerin was practically vibrating with excitement by the time they reached Dís. Thorin kept trying to guide him, but he stuffed his hands into his pockets instead. Frerin could guide himself.

Gandalf had laid a hand on his forehead and restored some of his energy. He didn’t quite feel like he could just fall over at any instant now. Bilbo was at his side, and he didn’t look all that much better. The wizard had taken Thrain to the side and started to explain what had happened. Thorin wanted to listen but Frerin had been looking at the door longingly and Thorin wouldn’t keep him away.

He could just grill Bilbo later.

“Is this-is that-” Frerin didn’t say anything else. He simply stepped forward and laid his hand against the door and closed his eyes. He ran his fingers around the stone and Thorin watched as his lips lifted in a smile. He mouthed their sisters name and dropped his hand down till it hovered over the knob. He turned it and pushed it open as his eyes opened. He exhaled slowly and steeled his shoulders. Thorin glanced at Bilbo who beamed back. They followed Frerin in.

Dís was standing by the bed with her back to the door. Her long hair was loose from any braid but the one that her husband had given her, and she was singing softly. She was swaying slowly, and looked perfectly relaxed to anyone who didn’t know her. Thorin could easily read the tension in her shoulders and the fear in her stance.

Frerin wasn’t moving any further into the room. His eyes were locked on the brownish red of Dís’ hair.

She stilled suddenly, and then spun around, tucking the blanket covered bundle in her arms close to her chest and drew a throwing axe from somewhere in her robes with the other one. She aimed it at the trio and then froze with the most ridiculous expression. It was halfway between intent and surprise.

“Frerin? Thorin?” She lowered the axe but held Fíli close. He started to whimper. Frerin didn’t move. “You’re alright?”

“Everything is well, sister.” Thorin assured. He looked at Frerin and gave him a gentle push. The dwarf started and then beamed.

“Dís,” he said with a ridiculous grin. “you are far better looking than Thorin. Though, you are taller than I remember.”

Dís’ mouth dropped open. She took a timid step forward and then was suddenly in front of Frerin. She scanned his face with watery eyes and smile that made Thorin no longer care about his exhaustion. “You can see?”

“Yes.”

“Gandalf said that it was a result of the curse.” Frerin said distractedly. His eyes looked down at the blanketed bundle eagerly. Dís cooed, suddenly remembering how unhappy her son was. She turned him and passed him to Frerin who couldn’t move.

“Hi Fíli.” The blond haired baby stared up at him with wide, blue eyes and grinned.

Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s hand and watched his brother gaze at his nephew.

-[]-[]-[]-

“I’m going to need everything explained at least one more time.” Thorin said as he stripped his tunic off. He was horribly sore and tired, but concentrating was getting easier.

He had somehow managed to make it back to his chambers, with Bilbo in tow of course. Thrain had given him leave to rest the rest of the day and regain his strength while he tended to the kingdoms affairs. Frerin was staying with Dís and Fíli. Gandalf was aiding Thrain.

“Gandalf essentially rigged the entire fight.”

“How?” He dropped the soiled tunic to the floor and looked up to see Bilbo walking towards him. His feet padded against the floor silently and his eyes danced over Thorin’s form with a concerned frown.

“He had years to plan. He had always intended to fight Saruman the moment the curse was triggered. Saruman was the source of the curse. Once he was taken out of the picture there wouldn’t be any more curse.” Bilbo paused and frowned. “It wasn’t just the royal family he betrayed. It was the entire white council as well.”

That was a powerful enemy to make.

His hobbit stopped in front of him and stared at his chest. There was a large black bruise developing on it. It had a match on his knee, which had very nearly been wrenched out of place. “Saruman just had to be beaten?”

“The curse was specifically  tied to him. Until he had the stone he would make your lives miserable.”

“If I had managed to -”

“You couldn’t harm him.” Bilbo corrected. He lifted his eyes and tried to smile. Dark circles were already appearing under his eyes. “That was part of the power. It had to be someone else. Like Gandalf.”

“Or you. You were aware of the circumstances of the curse and put yourself in such danger?”

Bilbo nodded his head and looked back at his bruise. The hobbit’s hands were warm and soft against his chest, and then the blue eyes flooded with green. A wave of coolness washed over Thorin’s chest, and then up and down over his entire body. Like a sudden breeze in the heat of summer. It eased the pain of his bruises, lacerations, and cracked ribs. His muscles unwound, and the grime was gone with the last of the aches.  

He wasn’t completely healed, but he could breath again.

“You should get to bed.”

Thorin stared at Bilbo with a suddenly dry mouth as the utter enormity of the fact that he wasn’t cursed made his heart thud almost painfully. They were free. All of them, his siblings, his father, his nephew. They didn’t have to fear the start of a terrible curse.

It had taken mere moments. Gandalf had planned the solution even though Thrain had banished him from the kingdom. He had tried to burn Bilbo and the hobbit had still offered his aid.

Bilbo’s hands settled low on his hips with worried eyes. That brought another question to mind. “Why did you give me the arkenstone?” He dropped his own hand to his pocket and felt the subtle lump there. He’d noticed it after the fight.

“It was Gandalf’s idea. He suspected that it would absorb energy. Which was why Saruman wanted it. He could gain energy from it and use it to keep magic from hitting himself.” He shrugged. “I wanted to plant it on you before the battle but you were gone before I could. It’s the reason you weren’t injured by the magic when you were a child. It harmed your hair, but it couldn’t harm you.”

“So you hid it on me when you entered?” Bilbo smiled embarrassedly and nodded his head while he raised his hands. He wiggled his fingers sheepishly. “You are quite the burglar.”

Bilbo took Thorin’s hand and tugged him closer with a small smile. His other hand was caught as well and he was taken towards the bed. “I simply followed instructions. Gandalf took advantage of your father…. banishing me to explain his ideas.”

“I cannot believe he would aid us after-”

“You do not give yourself, your brother, or your sister enough credit. Your father was scared.” Bilbo pushed Thorin onto the bed and sank to the floor he tugged his boots off. “Plus, I might not have given him much choice.” He tugged the other boot off while Thorin watched in mild confusion. “Now, we’re going to sleep for the night, and possibly a good portion of tomorrow. We are then going to see your father, celebrate your brother’s returned eyesight, and then sleep a bit more. Deal?”

It sounded good to Thorin.

-[]-[]-[]-

The first thing Thorin was aware of was the faint glow of morning light streaming into the room. hints of light streaming into the room. The second was the warm body nuzzling against his.

“‘m still ‘sleep.” Bilbo muttered into his pillow, but his arm tightened around Thorin before falling back asleep. He was pinned to the bed by Thorin’s leg but seemed quite happy with his position.

Not that Thorin was inclined to move at all. Still, it was at least mid morning, judging by the light, and his father would need to see him even if he wouldn’t demand it. Bilbo didn’t have to get up though. He slipped his leg off of Bilbo and waited to see if the hobbit would wake back up. He got a slight snore in response and could help but smile as Bilbo’s nose wrinkled slightly. He wiggled his way out from under Bilbo’s arm and sat up.

Bilbo snored again.

Thorin managed to get dressed and out the door without waking Bilbo. His body ached dully, but it was nothing like the fire he had felt the previous morning.

The meeting with his father was informative, and he managed to give back the arkenstone without any incident.

“About your betrothed…”

Thorin stilled with his back to his father.  He’d been dreading this talk since Bilbo had revealed his magic. He’d declared Bilbo his betrothed on the spur of the moment and without the proper procedures. He would not take his decision back. He would aid Bilbo in fleeing if he had to.

Surely his father would not try and burn him after -

“Do you intend to wed the hobbit?”

“You were aware of my intentions the moment I opened a courtship with him.” He turned towards his father slowly and kept his face carefully void of emotion. “I have chosen Bilbo and as such will protect him against any threat.”

“As we all shall. I…” Thrain paused and grit his jaw for a moment. His hand fisted and then relaxed it. “I am sorry for how I treated him.”

“Then I have your approval?”

“Yes.” Thrain stepped forward and grabbed Thorin’s shoulders. He brought Thorin closer and pressed their foreheads together.  “And my blessing.”

He returned to his room in a bit of a daze. He slipped into the inner chamber silently and locked the door behind himself. He was setting the key on the table when something tugged him backwards. His cape was removed from his shoulders, followed by his tunic as he was pulled towards the bed. He couldn’t help but laugh as Bilbo appeared in front of him. The hobbit stepped between his legs and rested his hands on Thorin’s thighs. His eyes were green and a faint sheen of gold was fading into his skin.

“You might have asked.” Thorin pointed out as he brought a hand to cup Bilbo’s face.

“You left without saying anything this morning.” Bilbo explained. “I worried.” He stepped closer. “I had plans.” His eyes grew brighter and The rest of Thorin’s clothes disappeared. “Besides.” a smile, “I find that magic makes things move faster.”

“Then you have my apologies for messing up your plans.” He held Bilbo's face in his hands and pressed a kiss to the hobbit’s lips. His hands moved to Bilbo’s back, resting on his spine and the hollow at the base for a moment before he decisively slid them down further, over the curve of his ass, fingers brushing against the soft cotton of the hobbit’s trousers.

Bilbo gasped softly as Thorin tugged him down onto his lap, pulling the hobbit closer until their chests were together and the hobbit was on his lap. He needed the close contact like an itch needed to be scratched.

They could meet with Dis tomorrow and start to plan a wedding.

Bilbo, not really having any room, wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck and pushed closer. “Thorin,” Bilbo said into his mouth, “You’re wounds-”

“Are no longer serious.” Thorin assured. He pulled Bilbo still closer and pressed his face into the hobbit’s neck. “Thank you.”

Bilbo laughed and dropped a kiss to his hair. “There’s nothing to thank. Come on. I’ll braid your hair and then we can go visit your sister and brother before ‘retiring’ for some fun.” His wink promised so many things, and Thorin could not wait to explore them with him. Free from lies and the need to hide.

Free… It sounded like fun.


End file.
